


How This Came To Be

by Sassycaslovesdean



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Abuse, Abusive John, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Anxiety, Anxious Cas, Au! Growing up, Bisexual Dean, Character bashing on John Winchester, Coming of Age, Depression, F/M, Homophobia, Homophobic John Winchester, Homophobic Language, Innocent Sam, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Lack of self worth, M/M, Mild Language, No Hunting, Nurse!Mary, Oblivious!Mary, Pain, Sassy Cas, Strangled relationships, Suicidal Dean, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Violence, domestic abuse, gay cas, light fluff, no monsters, one shots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-04
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2018-10-27 04:14:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 25,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10801473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sassycaslovesdean/pseuds/Sassycaslovesdean
Summary: This was everyday life. Cas lived with his brother Gabriel, and he had panic attacks often. Dean was suicidal and living with an abusive father who reminded him every day how worthless he was. His mother worked a lot, so he took care of Sam most days. Sam did not know what happened behind closed doors, but he finds out. Sam, Dean, and Cas are all close; they're like a family of their own, but Dean and Cas may be particularly close, which does not go down well with John. Slowly, the world begins to unfold.Or... This is a series of oneshots. Some are first person, and some are third person. They all tell the story of these three boys and how they deal with the cards destiny has dealt them.





	1. Narration

To say it was any different would be a lie - not even a disguised one, but a flat out lie that contained no trace of shame. My days seemed no different than any others, but I was only five when it first started, so to say that I was aware is a longshot. 

My name is Sam Winchester, and this is my story.

I was born to a theoretically flawless family. My mother was kind and gentle, but she could be stern when she wanted to be. She made the best apple pies, and whenever I got scared at night, she would sign me “Hey Jude” until I fell asleep.

My father was comparatively colder, but he smiled for me often. He would always tell me that everything was fine. Sometimes, he'd take me out to the arcade on a Saturday that he had off. He'd ruffle my hair and call me “his boy,” and he would even tell me from time to time that he loved me. 

Despite my seemingly plastic parents, I was actually closer to my brother, Dean. Honestly, I looked up to him. He took care of me, as you will see throughout my story. He was more of a parent to me than a brother, but his title has always been brother, and that has not changed to this day.

Introductions aside, I would love to start at a happy place, but that's not exactly the right vibe that you should begin with if you are to understand where I'm coming from. I'd like to start with this:

Dean was my best friend. There was no doubt about that. I was not popular at school, and I was often bullied. Dean would make it his business to find out and serve justice, but little did I know what he was getting dished out in return.

Anyway, my traumatic experiences at school are not the focus of what I'm getting at, so I'll push those aside for now. Right now, I would like to tell you about a moment that started out as a nervous flutter and then became one of the most scarring incidents of my childhood.

Actually, a bit of background is required before I do that. Let me explain. I never noticed what went on. I never knew what went down behind closed doors. I never saw it. I did not know. There were signs, but I did not know.

I did know, however, that my brother had a very good friend named Castiel, and they had been friends for a long time. I did not know, however, that the things I saw between them were taboo to speak about. I saw the way Castiel looked at Dean.

They had been friends since before I was born, and yet I only began to piece together at age ten what the looks that Cas shot to my brother meant. He was in love with him, and I knew it. I had seen it in the movies, and seen a hint of it in my own eyes whenever I watched the really pretty girl from a few blocks away walk home, but that came later, and I did not actually have that personal experience then.

I did, however, ask Castiel, who had become like a brother to me over the years, about his relationship.

He looked down at me with wide, frantic eyes. “You're wrong.” He immediately insisted. “I… it's not like that, Sam. Don't say things like that out loud.”

I didn't know why he told me that at that point, but I found out soon enough.

“Why? Don't you love him?” I asked in confusion.

“Dean is my friend.” Castiel forced out, but even as a child I could hear some kind of fear in his voice.

“So… you don't love Dean?” I blinked a few times, trying to figure out how my prediction could be wrong.

“As a friend.” Castiel bit out, and I could just hear the pain in his voice, but I could not make any sense out of it.

“But friends don't usually get jealous when they see their friend with a girl.” I pointed out simply as an observation, but it made Castiel become stiff as a board, his jaw clenching and his fist curling tightly.

“I do no such thing.” He objected, his voice dropping down a notch.

“Yeah. You do. It's the same look Dean gives me if Mom gives me an extra slice of pie.” I childishly spoke the truth.   
Castiel's gaze shot frantically about as if he had been caught doing something wrong. Little did I know, he thought that was exactly what had just happened. “Okay. I'm jealous, okay? But please, do not breathe a word of this to anyone. I mean no one, Sam. Promise me you will not tell anyone.”

“But… doesn't Dean deserve to know? Won't he want to know so you can get married?” I blinked up at him in confusion.

“No. He doesn't.” Castiel seemed increasingly nervous, his eyes wide and darting about in search of an invisible enemy. “Just…” He sighed, closing his eyes as if he hoped he could wish it all away. “Let's leave it as our secret, okay? I'll tell him when it's time.”

It was a lie. I didn't know it then, but I felt important for keeping a secret with the boy that I looked up to as another brother. I wanted his approval, and little did I know I already had it. I had just scared the living daylights out of him.

“Okay.” I agreed with a grin. “I can't wait until you're my brother.” 

“Me too.” Castiel lied so convincingly at the time, but I see now that he knew it would never happen. “Now how about you show me that sword you said you made today.” He changed the subject with a grin, and I was more than happy to fall right into it and show him the aluminum foil sword made.

Unfortunately for Cas, I was terrible at keeping secrets. I knew that Cas told me not to tell Dean, so I didn't, but I had to tell someone about my excitement at the idea of having Cas as a part of my seemingly perfect family. My mother worked nights often, so that left me with my father.

He was shining the hood of his car, a jet black ‘67 Chevy Impala, when I went to tell him the news.

“Hey, dad.” I began with a small and excited voice.

“Yeah, Sam?” He didn't bother to turn his attention away from the car as he spoke to me. His tone was completely hollow and noncommittal, showing just how much he truly cared for me.

“When do you think Dean and Cas are going to get married?” I asked with an innocent curiosity.

My dad froze, and he slowly inched away from the car. “What did you say?” He breathed out very slowly, his voice dangerously low. 

“Well, I just mean that they're in love and all, and so they've got to get married.” I explained, my voice trembling because of the sudden change in my father.

“Not under my roof.” John growled. “Don't you dare talk like that.”

“But… why not?” I croaked out, too afraid to even move anymore.

“Because.” John spat out, his heel already turning towards the door to the house. “I will not have any son of mine behave that way. I knew that Novak boy was trouble.” 

“What way?” I asked out of pure confusion.

“Go to bed, Sam.” He darkly ordered me.

“But-” I began only to be cut of by his bark.

“I said go to bed!” He yelled at me, and I knew that if I stayed any longer, I would be in danger, so I ran to my room in fear.

I regretted doing that for a long time. I went there, but I could hear from Dean's room that was next to mine. I could hear John cursing loudly at him, and I could hear Dean begging him to stop and give him another chance. I heard it all. I heard Dean's moans and screams as my dad beat him in the room next to mine, my own body frozen with fear. I couldn't believe what was going on. My perfect family was crumbling around me.

Little did I know, Dean had been receiving beatings since he was nine years old. Mine didn't start until I was fifteen and got into my first fight at school, or rather, the first time I fought back. 

John was convinced it was my fault, and I couldn't seem to convince him otherwise. Dean came in at my defense, but that only got him a snapped jaw and two broken ribs.

My mother was beyond concerned when she saw my bruises and Dean's more serious injuries. I told her about my fight at school, and the bruises could be attributed to that, but Dean, on the other hand, always came up with excuses about falling from trees or sports injuries. She was skeptical of all things, but John was a different person around her. They would fight sometimes, but he was never as vicious to her as he was to either Dean or me. Manipulation was the proper word for it.

I began to fear for my own life and Dean's. John had forbidden Castiel from seeing Dean after I told him that one night, but they still snuck out, Dean insisting that they were just friends and that I could not tell Dad. I knew better that time. I had already learned the hard way - or rather, Dean had for me.

However, everything changed when a girl moved in a few blocks away. I had gone over with my family to welcome her, but she barely acknowledged me.

I, on the other hand, was captivated by her. I developed a crippling crush. I would stare at her at school. I would always pick out the color of her forget-me-not blue eyes out as my favorite. I would wait for her to walk home everyday so that I could watch her.

I even stood up for her at school one time. I honestly think that I scared her. I didn't really know what to do with my feelings. I had only ever seen Dean and Cas deal with such things before, and Cas buried them out of fear for Dean and his relationship with him, and Dean buried it because he knew it could not be.

So, needless to say, I was definitely not adequately equipped, but she did give me hope that there was something good out there. 

There was one day that I shall never forget, a day etched in my memory for all of time. I saw her walk by and I counted down the usual amount of time it would take her to get home. I then rummaged through the garden and hesitated before I would pick the flowers.

I had seen Cas give them to Dean one time on Dean's birthday when they were hiding on Castiel's roof, Gabriel - Castiel's sugar loving brother - keeping me company downstairs. I had heard Dean get angry, and then Cas had come down the stairs, flowers still in hand and tears forming in his eyes. He took one look at both me and Gabe who had lifted our concerned gazes to him. He shook his head, dropped the flowers and went into his room.

Gabriel shifted in his seat next to me, and when Dean finally came down, he gave him one of the coldest glares I had ever seen. “Either you fix what you just did, or you get out of my house before I kick you all the way to Timbuktu.”

“I'm leaving. Sam, come on.” Dean growled out as he made his way to the door.

I got up to follow him, feeling Gabriel ruffle my hair quickly.

“Don't worry about it. Just… tell you brother to come back when he's not such an inconsiderate jerk.” Gabriel handed me a lollipop before turning his attention back towards Castiel's room.

So now I had a reluctance to bring my neighbor flowers, seeing as I feared she would react as Dean did. I had never heard that conversation on the roof, but I knew that Dean and my crush seemed to share quite a few characteristics, and that was what made me skeptical of my choice. I decided it best to ask Dean, so I made my way into the house, and what I saw made me an entirely different person. What I saw could never be erased. What I saw… no person should ever have to see.

\------------------------

 

They call me Dean. Most of them do anyway, or I guess they did. 

What I have to say is not exactly pretty, and yeah, I'm sorry that you have to hear it, but it's kind of necessary sometimes.

I had a friend. His name was Cas. He was a good friend. I mean that. He was always there for me.

My dad abused me as a kid. At first it was because I just was not smart enough for him, but it became more than that when he saw my friendship with Cas. It became so much more.

In his eyes, I became useless. He'd make sure to remind me that everyday. He'd tell me I was worthless and that I shouldn't have even existed, like I was an abomination.

It all started one day when I was nine and came home with a failing grade on a science test. John had always scoffed at my grades, so I worked endlessly to try and get grades that would please him. It didn't work. As soon as my mom left for her night shift at the hospital, he confronted me in an angry, half drunken rage. He only hit me twice that night, but it got worse as time went on.

I blamed Cas for a while. It was illogical of me, but after a while of watching the way he looked at me when I kissed girls, I knew. 

Cas was gay, but we didn't really establish that until our Sophomore year. His brother knew all along, but he was also the only family that Cas had.

I, on the other hand, was forced to be something I was not. Well, not entirely. It's complicated. My dad thought I was gay, and that was a taboo in his mind. He hated Cas. He really did, but I could not let him take away my best friend.

My dad's hatred for Cas took on a violent form one day out of the blue. He had always glared at Cas and muttered disapproving comments at how close Cas and I were for two fourteen year old boys, but it got worse one night.

I was hunched over my desk, books scattered about, my head pounding as I tried to cram information into my mind with some study notes Cas had helpfully given me. Without a single warning, John burst through my door, and I could feel the anger coming off of him in these waves that could only mean one thing.

I looked up from the desk, trying to force myself to remain calm. If I showed any sign of weakness, he would beat me harder, so I swallowed hard and tried to force a steady voice. “Dad?” I asked, trying to act as if nothing were out of the ordinary.

“What do you think you're doing?” He snarled, his voice vicious and full of the anger I had become accustomed to.

“Studying.” I answered, leaving it simple. It was better that way.

“It won't help you. It can't make you smart.” He sneered.

“Cas made me some studying notes. I think they're really helping-” I began, hoping to impress out of my pathetic desperation.

“Shut up!” John snapped, stalking into the room and slamming the door behind him. “So you're taking help from that pathetic little queer?”

My eyes widened in shock. Cas and I were only fourteen. We were both too young to know our sexuality at that age. I had no words. I was baffled. Anything I said could be thrown back at me in seconds, but words would not be the only things thrown at me.

“What else is the little faggot giving you, huh?” John picked me up by the collar to spit in my face. “Sam says he loves you. So you're one too, huh? What makes you think that's okay? Why, I ought to get rid of you! What is wrong with you?!” He rammed me up against the wall, and I could feel his breath on my face as he wanted, the taste of alcohol making me cringe. “Look at me!” He shouted, his eyes bulging as he punched my face.

I obediently lifted my gaze to meet his eyes, not daring to disobey. I had it coming anyway.

“I will not have this under my roof! To think I've had to put up with you humiliating this family with your stupidity, and now you're making it look like I raise a bunch of queers!” He punched me in the gut before letting it all out, blow after blow that I took like a punching bag, completely silent. “You useless waste of space. I should just throw you out. All you do is waste good food and money that could be spent on Sam. You disgust me. You're lucky I don't…” He hit me again before smashing my head into the wall. It was okay though because I was used to it. I didn't even notice the blood that pooled on my head and poured from my nose and mouth. “You owe me. You owe me everything, but you'll never repay it because you can't. You can't do anything right.” 

He turned and left without another word, and I remained silent and unresponsive as I went into the bathroom to clean up before my mom got home.

I kept seeing Cas, even when Cas told me he was gay. I didn't care. He was still my friend, and John still was not going to change that. I'd go to him when it got really bad too. Whenever John hit me too badly, I would go over to Cas's house, and he would take care of me. Gabriel had made a point of leaving a blanket and a pillow on the couch every night in case I showed up.

They helped me, and I shouldn't have blamed Cas, but I did. I didn't want to fall in love with him either. I didn't want to be bi. I didn't want to be something that my father clearly despised, but I guess I was just a disappointment all around, so I pretended I wasn't. I boxed up my feelings for Cas and instead I pretended that every girl I kissed was him. It didn't work, not well at least.

He reminded me of my lack of worth so often that it soon became solid fact in my mind.

It led to some pretty dark times in my life, and I regret the day that Sam found out.

\--------------

I still find it hard to fathom how Dean and I went from joyous infants to troubled teens screaming at each other on a roof, but it did happen. 

He was my first, and basically my only friend other than Meg, who had been my friend for a short period of time in middle school. It was Dean who first started calling me Cas. Nobody else cared enough to give me a nickname before, other than Gabriel of course, who called me Cassie.

Dean and I had a strangled relationship. His father hated me. He would send me death glares whenever he saw me, and it may have taken me awhile to piece together, but I was not an imbecile. I caught on, and it only became more and more frightening as I fell deeper and deeper in love with Dean. 

I watched as Dean surrounded himself with women to prove something, and while I was perfectly jealous, I also felt an undeniable sense of pity.

I came to have a growing resentment towards John Winchester, and that was before I knew about the way he beat Dean. After I figured it out, I had frantically told him to tell the police, but Dean had insisted that it would only make it worse for the rest of the family and that he deserved it.

I believe that was what I most despised about John Winchester. He made a boy as beautiful, brave, and perfect as could be in my eyes see himself as a worthless object that did not deserve life.

I took it as my job to make him feel loved, so I tried my hardest. I did love him, but showing said love in a way that would appear perfectly platonic was not the easiest task that I could have been dished. 

Regardless, I found out that bringing him flowers was a mistake. I should not have done such a thing. What a fool I was to think that maybe, just maybe it might mean something to him.

“Happy Birthday.” I had said with a smile on my face as I held out the flowers I had picked earlier that day just for him.

His eyes went wide as he took them in. “No way, Cas. You've got to be kidding me.” Dean laughed ever so briefly as if to dismiss my offer, and, if I am honest, I must say that it made my heart twist in my chest.

“I just thought… that maybe you'd want a birthday present.” I held the flowers out to him still, hoping that he would just accept the gift.

“I don't want that, Cas.” Dean shook his head, some kind of fear soaking into his eyes, but I see now that there was also his telling glint - he was lying. “Are you insane?!” His voice raised.

“What's so insane about it?” I challenged, standing my ground against Dean, glaring at him in the eyes now.

“You are. There is no way that is ever going to happen!” Dean turned away from me, so that I could not read his face.

“Perhaps not.” I agreed, knowing all too well that it was true. “But I can't live in a lie forever, Dean. How long do you expect me to ignore how I feel?”

“Don't say it.” Dean hissed out, his voice a strange mixture of force and pleading.

“I can't do it anymore, Dean. We're eighteen, and soon enough we won't even see each other again. I need to tell you this. I've kept it in long enough.” I firmly resolved, refusing to back down.

“No. You don't. You don't have anything to say.” Dean warned me.

“I do, Dean. I cannot just pretend that I'm not in lov-” I began but I was cut off by Dean's fierce yell.

“I said enough, Cas! Stop it! Just shut up and go back to being my friend!”

 

It hurt beyond belief, but I stormed out. I knew Gabriel was concerned. He did try to talk to me, but I insisted that I had brought on myself and that he owed Dean no slap across the face.

I did mend things with Dean at a later date. We came to the silent decision that Dean and I would both just forget about the night on the roof. We agreed to ignore my feelings, but little did I know it was only because Dean wanted to ignore his.

\---------------

I was fifteen when I saw it. I was only fifteen when everything finally clicked. I had only gone into Dean's room for advice. I was excited about the idea of actually talking to my neighbor, but it soon faded as I entered Dean's room.

Dean was curled up on his bed, razor blades in hand and my mother's sleeping pills on his nightstand. His wrists were slashed and he seemed in the process to slash another mark when I froze in the doorway.

“Dean…” I breathed out, utterly unsure what to do at that point. “What… why?” I felt my eyes spill a few shameless tears.

“Sammy…” He rasped out upon seeing me. He dropped the blade and offered me one of his best fake smiles. “I… just had a little bit of an accident. It's nothing to worry about.”

“That's not an accident, Dean.” My eyes were wide and wet as I took in the deliberate slash marks. “Dean, why would you…?” I could not find the words to complete that sentence. It seemed so impossible. It all did. Dean always had such a strong face. He'd always smile and joke no matter what. It was only then that I realized it was all a mask.

Dean said nothing, his eyes just watching the blood ooze from his cuts. “It doesn't matter, Sam. It really doesn't.” He absently spoke. His voice sounded so empty and hopeless, and I could not have hated my father at that moment more if I had tried. I had hated him before for hitting both me and my brother, but this was all his fault. He caused those events, and I had to wonder how many times Dean had actually attempted suicide, but it hurt too much to think about. My mind was already swirling.

“Of course it does, Dean. You can't just say that. I need you here, Dean. Please…” I begged, my round eyes scanning from Dean's wrists to the bottle of pills by his bed.

Dean tracked his gaze and closed his eyes. “You weren't supposed to see this.” He breathed out.

“Did you take those?” I asked thickly, my mind paralyzed with fear at the thought of Dean's death already being assured.

“No. I didn't take them yet.” Dean muttered. “Sam, you should just go. I… want you to go.”

“No. Absolutely not.” I gathered the courage to finally walk into the room and pick up one of his flannel shirts off the ground to wrap around one wrist, taking my own flannel off for the other wrist. “I'm not leaving you. You never left me.” 

“Sam… I'm not worth it. I'm not. Don't waste your time. You can go off, Sam. You're smart. You can still have a future. You've got a lot that I don't. You can go places, Sam. Me,” Dean laughed bitterly, the sound hollow and heartbreaking. “I'm not going anywhere. I can't pass highschool. I can't please my own father. All I do is drive everyone away. I'm worth nothing, not in dad's eyes, not in anyone's. I'm just a failure, but you don't have to be.”

“No! Stop talking like that! Dean, you can't say those things. Dad is wrong. I know he is. There's so much about you that I look up to. You're my hero! Cas loves you too, and I know he sees you as the world. Mom loves you. You're an angel in her eyes. You can't just do that to us. You can't just check out. You've always been so strong and fearless. Please, Dean, fight for us.”

“It's all a lie, Sam.” He shook his head, the blood loss beginning to make him faint. “You needed somebody to be strong for you, so I pretended that I was. I'm not what you think I am.”

“No. You are. You're my brother, and I will not give up on you.” I firmly resolved.

Dean's eyes began to shine with tears as he pulled me into him. We sat there for quite some time, but we never spoke of it again.

History did have a funny way of repeating itself later on, which made my second experience all the more painful.

\------------

When I first learned that Sam had fallen in love with the girl from down the street, he was already in college, but I guess fate had some tricks in mind as it switched things up. They met again, and I'm pretty sure that Sam creeped her out again.

Her name was Cameron, and he talked about her. A lot. Everytime he called me from Stanford, he would always have something new to say about her, even if it sounded very similar to what he said the previous day.

He would make a point of going to the library at the same time as her everyday, and he would always insist that it was just because she was lonely or mysterious. He would always tell me that he loved his girlfriend, Jess, and that romance was not what drew him to Cameron in the first place. Yeah, because I totally believed that. 

I would listen to him every time he talked about her though. There was just a look in his eye every time he talked about her that made me feel good inside. It's hard to explain, but I guess you could say I was happy for him. I was proud too. I mean, I knew his excuses about his interest being platonic were just cover ups, but it was because of that glint in his eyes and the excited tinge to his voice that always made me listen.

I knew it wouldn't end well. I did not know much about her, but I knew that she was alone for a reason. She had no friends for a reason. I had learned that much personally. Isolation is kind of a coping mechanism, a bad one, but that's what it is, and I recognized it immediately. It was trouble, and I didn't want Sam falling into that. I didn't want to see him get hurt again. I had already done enough of that.

There was also the obstacle of his girlfriend, whom I already knew and genuinely liked. She was sweet, kind, and patient. She was good for Sam, and Cameron seemed to be potentially harmful.

She later proved me very wrong, but I'll get to that later. Right now, I'd like to make it clear that Cas and I were never together. After that night on the roof, there was just this silent agreement between the two of us never to speak of the event or the feelings involved in it again. The only exception was when Cas told me he was not going to college.

That was one of the biggest shocks I've ever received. Cas was smart, and I mean he was Ivy League school smart. That kid was in all AP and honors his entire high school career, and he still retained well over a 4.0. Don't ask me how he did it. I honestly don't want to talk about some of the things I saw him go through to get to that point, but it wasn't pretty. Let's leave it at that.

Anyway, my point is, I could not believe that Cas was trying to tell me he was not going to college. I was not, but that much could be predicted anyway, and yeah, my dad was not happy about that either. Unless you count the two ribs that I have that never quite settled right again and now jut out of my chest in a slight angle as a reward, then no, my dad was not happy.

Regardless, I still blinked at Cas a few times in wonder as he told me he was not going to college. “What?” I asked, a half smile pulling at my mouth as my go to method of false assurance. “I'm sorry. I don't think I heard you.”

Castiel sighed and shook his head disdainfully at me. “You know what I said, Dean. I'm not going to school. Gabriel needs me here, and after all he's done for me, I owe him as much. Besides, leaving would cost far too much.”

That much was true. Gabriel was Castiel's sole guardian, and he only owned a small bakery in town, so I always knew that Cas didn't have the most money of all the kids at our highschool, but the thought had never really occurred to me before. The thought that struck me next is what mattered most though. “You're staying because you want to keep an eye on me.” I voiced the incredulous thought out loud.

“I didn't say that.” Castiel folded his arms defensively.

“I know you didn't, but I know what you're trying to do, Cas. Why can't you just forget about me?” It was not a real question because I already knew the answer. I just wanted him to drop me and move on to someone who could treat him better.

“You already know the answer to that, as much as you may want to avoid it.” Castiel's voice was low and serious as he spoke, sending a chill down my spine as I recalled the night on the roof.

“Cas…” I tried to find the words to apologize or to explain myself. I never wanted to hurt him. That was the last thing I wanted. I didn't want to hurt Sam either, but I did that too. John was right about one thing: I really did break everything I touched, and no matter how much I tried to change that, it only seemed to make things worse. “I  
…” I couldn't find any other words. Luckily enough for me, Cas knew me too well, and he didn't need any words to know what I was saying.

“You don't have to explain, Dean. I already know.” Cas whispered in a soft and sympathetic tone. “It doesn't matter. I can't leave, and while you are a part of that equation - the value of which I'll refrain from telling you, you are not the entire basis for my decision.”

I said nothing for a while, not really sure what to say. I really did not deserve Cas. He was like an angel sent to look after me, and frankly, I feel like I broke the angel. I was awful to him. I ignored his feelings towards me because I wanted to bury mine, and I even ended up blaming him for what was really my fault. I brought those beatings on myself. John was not a villain. He was not anything treacherous until he laid a hand on Sam. Before then, he was really just serving justice and hitting me with truth. Sam did not deserve it. He did nothing to deserve it. Cas was always there for me, no matter how terrible of a person I was. He loved me when I hated myself. He saw a spark in my eyes and beauty in my soul when all I saw was a worthless waste of space. I could never express my gratitude, but my isolated tendencies that I had built up over the years to conceal truth kicked in, and I didn't even try. “Whatever you say, but it's a shame. You could have gone pretty far. I know it.”

“I'd rather be here.” Castiel resolved without missing a beat, that strange glimmer that I always did my best to ignore returning to his eyes - it was that look of affection and dedication that very distinctly belonged to a loving gaze, so I looked away.

“Glad to hear it. I guess you'll be around after all then.” I shrugged, deciding immediately that I had to get out of there before I gave into that gaze.

“I'll always be here for you, Dean.” Castiel assured me as if it were a solid fact that I should have known at that point, and I guess I kind of did.

“Yeah, well…” I tried to thank him again or say something at least. I never really let him know how much I appreciated him, but for some reason I found it difficult. “That's good I guess. I mean, I'm glad you're here and all, Cas, but maybe you should think about yourself for once.”

Castiel blinked a few times as if my suggestion was entirely new to him, and that was when I realized that I always came before him in his mind, and that stung me in a weird kind of way. “I can take online courses, Dean. This is what's best for everyone.” He informed me like he was some kind of receptionist, but I saw what was hidden behind those big blue eyes - he was thinking of me, and I can't really tell you how guilty that made me feel.

“If you say so.” I gave in without much more of an argument. I didn't want to think about it anymore. Cas was loyal to me, and he cared far too much, even when I could not care less about myself. 

“I'll be fine, Dean. I…” Castiel seemed hesitant to finish that thought. “This is what I want.” He seemed to change his words at the last minute. I don't know what he was going to say, but I'm pretty sure that wasn't it.

 

My mind threw a few ideas at me, and they honestly scared me. I didn't want to think of them, but part of me wanted to just acknowledge Cas's feelings and my own and just let it happen, but that could not happen, so I turned away and began to leave. “Thanks, Cas.” 

It was the only time I really thanked him. He deserved it, but he deserved a lot more. I regret not thanking him earlier, but even what I did say sounded forced because of my suppressed emotions. I was a mess at the time. I was severely depressed. I had extreme self loathing problems, and I also had no idea what to do with anything I ever felt because I had always kept things in. I know it's not an excuse for being a bad friend, but it's just a fact. I couldn't let Cas go at that point in my life, and that was how I expressed that.

“Anytime, Dean.” Cas called after me, some kind of memory hidden in his tone. It was weird. It was like he was nostalgic as he spoke, remembering something like from when we were kids.

Anyway, that was the only time we ever talked of the night on the roof, and it was not even directly addressed. We avoided it, but I guess Cas only did because I did. Maybe we both just knew better. 

He did, however, piece together my self harm habits, which had stopped since that day that Sam found me. After that, I stopped. I stopped and fought as hard as I could - for my mom, Cas, and especially Sam. It was not easy. I can tell you that much. I would still look at each truck go by and just picture myself getting hit by it. I would picture myself walking into the lake just to let the water wash over me and take me in. I would think about just dying in my sleep and never having to wake up again and face the person I hated so much in the mirror.

It was hard, and believe me, Cas found me pretty close to relapse at times, but between him and Sam, I fought through it. 

My mom had suspicions, and she did look into getting me a therapist, but I could not risk a therapist finding out the truth, so I declined that as fiercely as I could.

My point is, I got better after time, and it leads me to honestly say that without Sam and Cas, I would not be alive today.

\------------

Staying and living with Gabriel was one of the best choices I had ever made throughout my life span. I hate to admit that Dean was the the utmost priority in my mind when I made my decision, but it does not make it any less final. I have no regrets. I do not regret being Dean's friend. I do not regret staying with him through everything. I do not even regret falling in love with him.

It's a peculiar thought if I've ever had one. I came to realize quite fast that love was not all that the film's and novels had so deceptively depicted it as. Love is not blissful and powerful. It is not something that makes you giddy and smile rays of sunshine. It is not watching the stars and feeling complete. It's not comforting arms that make troubles melt away. While it can be some of those things, the reality is vastly different.

Falling in love is much more like falling down an endless pit. It is infinite, and one is never aware what may be inside - theoretically, of course. It is cold at times and lonely. It jabs at your heart and paralyzes your entire body, leaving your limbs limp with a stinging numbness. It watches as you crumble and fall inwards, your mind giving out and snapping in two. It laughs when you scream and want to tear your own hair out. It grins at the shedding of each tear with some perverse sense of satisfaction.

That's not to say it is all suffering. It is just to say that it is the side that is more often showed and felt than the stereotypical theory. 

Loving Dean did make me feel light inside at times. Talking to him did always seem to draw a smile to my face. His little victories were always great ones in my mind. Surely, those sound like positive things, and indeed they are, but they are not the complete picture. 

I had such conflicted feelings over Dean that I was quite unsure what to do with them. Dean knew after the night on the roof, but we never even spoke of the ever again. Strange, isn't it? He was so worked up, and yet he could not seem to manage to even speak of it again. Never mind that. I did not need an apology of any sorts. I got what was coming to me regardless of what my smidge of optimism had convinced me. Dean was right to reject me. I would have too if I were him, but I simply cannot lie and say that the events did not hurt me.

That is beside the point at the moment. I would actually like to discuss my mental health - as selfish as that may sound. It is not something I can simply rid myself of, so I wish to relay it onto you.

I have anxiety in varying levels. It is partially social, but that is only a portion. I would have panic attacks every so often, and every time, Dean would hold me and tell me to take deep breaths in a calm and steady voice. We never discussed any of the times in which that occurred. We both had this forced silence settled upon us that seemed impossible to shake.

I was glad that he never did bring it up. My breathing would increase when I was in too large of a crowd, my grades were in danger, or even something as trivial as a class presentation. I was a nervous wreck, but Dean did not care.

One of the worst times was when the bakery that my brother owned was attacked and robbed while he was working there. It came on the news while I was sitting and studying with Dean. Although, if we are being honest, it was much more like I was studying and Dean was doing everything in his power to distract me. I dropped everything I was doing when I saw the report of the armed robbery. Everything around me seemed to blur away. Fear and anxiety overwhelmed me and swallowed me whole. My breath hitched before it increased to an unhealthy pace. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, seeming to twist and pound until it burst, sending vast amounts of blood boring through my veins. My eyes widened and watered as my mind left my body temporarily. It is a peculiar phenomenon that you would have to experience to fully understand, but it felt like I was hovering above my physical form, as if my body was no longer under my own control. My words stuck to the back of my throat, nearly choking me when I tried to communicate. I was detached from the world, meaning I had completely forgotten about Dean's presence.

He said nothing. Perhaps he may have said my name once, but I honestly do not recall whether or not he did. I do, however, know that he swept me into his arms and just held me, occasionally reminding me to breathe. He had done it before, and I have to say that he was quite skilled at it. 

You may think that it would not be very effective a method, or perhaps you think Dean to be emotionally incapable of comfort, but I would desire to state otherwise. The assurance of having him there meant everything. Dean spoke thousands of words through silence that were far more comforting of any words that anyone could have voiced. Dean had been emotionally suppressed, which I viciously blamed John for, but that did not mean he was emotionless. I could feel it all in the way he held me - a sense of kindness, care, a hint of fear, comfort, and even though I dared not even think it then, love. I could see in his eyes every emotion Dean ever felt, no matter how miniscule. I became quite skilled at reading him. I knew when he lied or when he was scared. I could see all of the times he was in pain - mentally or physically. I even saw… regret and longing in his eyes, but we never spoke of it, and part of my mind even refused to admit it was there because of the way Dean acted around me, but I knew that no matter how cold Dean's words were, the glint in his eye told me his words pained them more than they did me, and that was always what broke my heart. If only we had been born under different circumstances.

“He's…” I felt my words sputter forth in an uncontrolled manner, clumsy words spilling from my growing fear. “My brother… I'm… going… to lose him… can't… all I… have.” 

“You won't, Cas. I promise.” Dean's voice was low as he held me in his arms and rubbed the back of his head, his tone sounding as if he intended to say I'll always be here.

Gabriel did turn out to have been shot, but it was only in the shoulder. He had a sling for a while, which he never stopped complaining about, but he was fine and almost even grateful to Dean for taking care of me when I found out.

Despite my unstable mental state, Dean was still my friend, and he certainly did not deserve the way that I professed my feelings for him. He deserved far better than that. If I were a good friend, I would have kept them to myself, but I did not. I only made things more difficult for him, and I have regretted doing that to this day.

\-----------

It took time, and a great deal of it at that, but Dean did get better. He never really smiled, not really. It was usually just a pose for me or my mother. He even got to the point where he would only stiffen the slightest bit when John was in the room. He hid things quite well, so it was hard for me to really say how he was doing, but I made it my business just as he had looked out for me.

I was always closer to Dean than either of my parents, so I was not prepared to lose him. However, I knew it would be impossible to get my brother back entirely as long as John was still around. 

That much was answered almost as if it were a prayer. The woman I had fallen in love with - Cameron Blake - changed everything.

When I met her again in college, I knew that my life was going to change. At the time, I did not know how.

I fell hopelessly in love with her, which was not what I had intended to do, but unfortunately love does not seem to care for intentions. I ended up breaking up with my girlfriend, Jess, simply because our relationship was a lie as long as I was in love with Cameron. 

Cameron and I did get together, and while it made me ecstatic - honestly, I was happier about that than my actual college graduation, which happened to be on the same day. My newfound joy was soon diminished as I saw John's glare from across the way. 

Dean looked between us with that kind of forced assurance he had, but I saw the worry and the fear hidden behind the false confidence.

John's words to Cameron were cruel and uncalled for, and I felt myself bristle beside her. Cameron verbally fought back. She was defending me, which I greatly admired. I thought that was absolutely beautiful about her, but it was also because it reminded me of when Dean would step in and stand up to John at my defense. I loved her for that because it was always something I had admired in Dean. No matter how afraid the two of them were from their personal experiences, they did not back down, and I honestly could not have been more in love with her.

Dean did interject at some point, Cas standing defensively by him and glaring at John a silent threat. Dean's interjection only landed him a yell from John and then a blow straight to the jaw, sending Dean stumbling backwards and into Cas's arms, who immediately pushed him back up and began to look over his jaw, but Dean was not finished. He got back up and hit John right back, which outraged him. He took it out on both Dean and then Cameron, but between the two of them, he was beaten, and he disappeared from our lives just like that.

They were there and finally free: my family. Dean was no longer John's punching bag. Cas was no longer afraid of losing Dean at any moment. My mother was in shock, but that was something she would overcome with time. Gabriel seemed relieved as he saw Cas begin to fuss over my brother, and Cameron… strong, brave, and independent, Cameron. I loved her far more than words can begin to say, and I was eternally grateful for having found her in life. 

\----------

My mind took a while to process what had happened. My dad was beaten. I was actually free, and the idea was honestly so unknown to me that I kind of sat in shock for a few minutes. I blinked up at Cas, who was worrying over each little injury I had gotten. It was what he was used to doing, and he knew perfectly well that I had seen worse. Battle scars - that's what they were, and I have a lot more of those to show for, but I guess the point of battle scars is just to remember the day that the battle was over and victory was decided. Yeah, I think I felt pretty victorious as my head snapped towards Cas. My suppressed emotions began to come forth all at once, something inside of my just screaming at me to kiss Cas. John was gone. I didn't have to… 

I didn't need to convince myself any further. I went for it without a second thought, not giving myself the chance to hesitate.

Cas's eyes widened as he felt my lips on his, but he surprisingly seemed to pull away.

“Dean…” He sounded hurt and angry as his low voice came out, his face still close to mine. “If you're just kissing me because you're excited, then I'd suggest you find someone else to-”

I cut him off by crushing my lips back into his, not good with my own words, so I decided to let my mouth speak for me, trying to tell him how much I actually cared about him. “It's not. I promise.” I huffed out as we pulled apart.

A toothy grin spread across his face as if he could not believe what he was hearing, the corners of his eyes crinkled as wonder filled his face, and finally, I was able to enjoy that look without worrying about being transparent. He looked like he was on the verge of tears, but he did not cry. He raised his hand to wipe at his eyes, but it came back with some of my blood that he been transferred to his face while we kissed, and his eyes widened.

“We've got to get you looked at.” Cas immediately realized, the grin dropping from his face as his gaze swept over me again.

“It's fine, Cas. I've seen worse. I'd rather just stay here.” I smirked, but it was then that I remembered Sam and Cameron were still there. “But… uh…” I awkwardly jerked my head towards my brother's newfound girlfriend. “She should get that nose looked at.” My nod and gaze was more like a thank you to her. I know that I couldn't have stood up to my dad if it hadn't been for her, so I guess I didn't hate her after all. Yeah, I guess she wasn't so bad.

\----------

 

My mind still seems to be a swirling maelstrom from that moment in time in which my greatest desires began to unfold one after the other. It was nearly inconceivable at the time, but after pulling away from Dean and feeling his blood on my hand and smeared onto my face.

I had insisted on taking him to the hospital despite his protests. I had just finally found him, it perhaps he had just found himself, but nevertheless, I was still not willing to take any risks when it came to his safety. The person that I loved most in the world had just been liberated from his most restricting burden of his life, and I intended to be with him every step of the way.

Sam seemed to have a similar thought process, seeing as he too worriedly carried Cameron off towards the hospital despite her incessant protests that she was fine.

Even years later, I still found my situation with Dean to be profoundly bemusing. Dean and I had gone from little infants playing with blocks to toddlers with toy trains and trucks. We had been children peeking over the fence that separated us and sneaking over to swing on the swingset or go on adventures through the forests in our backyards consisting of approximately ten trees. We became preteens who often liked to do reckless things such as try and climb onto Dean's rooftop via the tree in his backyard. I broke my leg, and Dean told me it could not be too bad and that I should just keep climbing. He took it back when he saw my X-ray. We then became young teenagers. I realized that I had steadily fallen in love with my best friend, while Dean moved onto hitting on every girl he saw. Our Senior year, he took Lisa Braeden to prom, and while I was quite jealous, I stubbornly insisted upon bringing Balthazar - a very flirtatious British boy - as my date almost as payback, but I did almost enjoy his company. Balthazar and I spent a good portion of the night together, but strangely enough, so did Dean and I, and while I did not learn this until later, Dean's date even just told him to go to me because he “clearly was more into his best friend.” We even began to dance a slow dance together towards the end as a half joke, but fear overtook Dean, and he ran away and left me alone. To say that I was unaffected would certainly be a lie. I cried afterwards, but Balthazar seemed to understand and comforted me on the way home. Then we were shouting on a roof top because I simply hated containing my own feelings. We graduated, but we both stayed at home. We were both mentally unstable, but we both smiled for the most and buried everything. Things moved on mostly the same until that moment after Sam's graduation. Then, all of my emotions suddenly spilled forth. It was as if every single prayer I had ever made came true, and I felt ecstatic and overflowing with an unimaginable joy. Dean loved me too. That was the best thing I could have wished for. Even after we got married and adopted our daughter, Charlotte, who by all means is a light in my life that seems to brighten every day with innocent sweetness, I could not have wished for more than what I have, and I still cannot fathom how it came to be, but they say never to look the gift horse in the mouth, so I suppose that is one direction that I shall never dare to commission my eyes to venture. After all, love did somehow seem to preside over the temporal troubles and provide victory in the end, but that love was birthed from pain. I suppose all love is. Love cannot exist without pain. It is theoretically impossible. My life has taught me that much. I had learned that love and pain were best friends, so where one is, the other is bound to be, but love is also about mending that pain. It's a circular concept because that same love will inflict more pain at a later date, but I think that the point is this: Without love we are nothing. With it, we are broken and empowered at the same time. Pain and love are essential to the human experience, and while they may seem like opposites, they are really one in the same.


	2. Hidden Stories

Time has always equated to change in my mind, and so I must admit that it is through time that the major turning points of my life came to be.

When I was a child, the majority of my family called me Cassie. By the time I was eleven years old, the only person who held that privilege was my brother, Gabriel.

I had very few friends. I was spurned by society and even those close to me, and yet I held on. It was not a simple task, but I held on for a select few reasons - Gabriel, a friend named Dean, and his brother Sam.

While I did have another brother by the name of Michael, I never knew him all that well nor did he particularly care to know me as a person, which intensified later in my life. Gabriel was really the only family that I had left after I lost my parents in a fatal car crash one day that forever changed the course of my life.

I was sitting in my sixth grade English class while trying to balance my attention on the board and the notes that Dean kept passing to me, and then it happened. 

There was a beep that signaled the main office calling, so the teacher stopped talking and looked up towards the speaker. “Yes?” She asked the speaker in a professional tone.

“Could you send Castiel Novak to the main office? His brothers are here to see him.” The receptionist's voice came from across the speaker.

“Sure thing.” The teacher answered, the speaker clicking off to signal the end of the call. “Castiel.” She turned to me, her voice seeming to take on a gentle tone because she knew very well that my brother never came to simply talk to me, neither of them did. Gabriel himself was still in school at the time, and Michael had only just graduated high school and was pondering entering the army. He was very serious, and he only bothered discussing anything with Gabriel or me if it was absolutely mandatory. I knew in that moment that it could not be a good omen.

I nodded, mumbling a thank you and trying to avoid the curious gazes that were digging holes into the back of my head. The only one that I knew was born of genuine concern was Dean's.

I left the room, only hearing Dean arguing with the teacher about a right to go with me, causing the other kids to snicker and mutter a few slurs at him. I never really will understand the appeal of doing so, but they did nevertheless, and I know that deep down, it bothered Dean because I know that it certainly bothered me.

“Mr. Winchester!” I heard the teacher shout as Dean ran out of the room, running right towards me and motioning for him to follow him to the main office.

“Dean…” I began, unsure why he would even follow me in the first place. “You should go back. You're going to get in trouble.”

“So what? I'm always in trouble.” Dean shrugged it off as if it were nothing.

“But that is exactly the problem. You are always getting in trouble, and I will not allow you to get in trouble for me, not when I know that your dad will-” I began my rant, but I knew that I had struck a nerve as soon as I had spoken. I did not really blame him when he cut me off.

“I'm trying to help you, Cas. If you don't want my help, then go right ahead and have one of those weird heavy breathing things on your own.” Dean shot back, and I think that even he could see the flicker of hurt in my eyes because he immediately seemed to want to take his words back as well.

“I am perfectly fine, Dean. I never said I did not want your help. I just do not want you to get hurt, not to mention that my brothers will likely not want you sitting in on the conversation.” I reasoned.

“Then I'll wait outside the door for you in case it's really bad. You know, just in case…” He trailed off, not wanting to point out my affliction yet again.

At that point, my panic attacks had been minimal. They had only been a few, and those had been due to some more severe bullying. My first one was when I was beaten to a point of bleeding just about a year earlier. They were never terribly serious, but I don't think Dean entirely understood what they were. All he knew was that I got scared or anxious and then my breathing rate increased against my control. However, my panic attacks did not really start until that day.

“Thank you, Dean.” I blinked a few times, feeling eternally grateful for having him by my side.

He said nothing more, simply taking a seat outside of the main office, slouching down in his chair, hands in his leather jacket’s pockets. He gave me an encouraging smirk before I went into the room, unsure of what I might find.

My oldest brother, Michael, was seated across from the receptionist. Gabriel was at his side, but he did not have the usual cheerfulness that was so typical of him. He looked almost as if he had been kicked in the gut, his eyes downcast and watery as his whole body seemed to almost be curling in on itself.

The receptionist took that moment to leave the room and go into her office to the side, giving me the time to have some forced conversation with my brothers.

It was Michael who spoke first, his eyes icy with only the slightest hint of emotion behind them. He leaned forward in his chair to face me, his eyes locked onto me as if reading me for response. “Castiel,” He addressed me in such a formal way that one might even think that he was my lawyer in some trial of mine. “Approximately two hours ago, our parents were in a car crash that neither of them have survived. The hospital has just called me to deliver the news, so it would seem that you and Gabriel are my responsibility now.” 

I could almost hear the mechanical way in which it must have been practiced for him to deliver the speech in such an emotionlessly chilling manner that never quite left my mind. That was the way in which I learned about my parent's deaths, and it was in no way consoling.

I went silent, my eyes wide as panic and disbelief took hold of me, refusing to let go as they buried me deep in their back yard, killing me off to the rest of the world.

I could not formulate a single word, but that was mostly due to the fact that I was no longer in the same plane as them. It is difficult to explain, but I had left my body and truly became one with the anxiety that had swelled within me for so long a time, my one and only true friend whom would never leave me.

The world was quite literally spinning around me, my vision becoming a blur and the gentle prodding of Gabriel and the slightly less sympathetic questioning of Michael vaguely teased at my ears, but the sound would not come. The world around me was an entire blur. I no longer even knew where I was as I ran out of the door and stopped in the middle of the hallway, only registering empty space around me.

I know that Dean must have been frantically calling my name because I vaguely felt him around me and heard his voice as if I were only half awake and listening to some conversation he was having that I could have no actual say in. I tried my hardest to focus on him because I was sure that was what he was trying to tell me to do, but I simply could not. 

 

My parents had been alive just that morning. My father had smiled as he dropped me off at school, and my mother had made breakfast with a calmness about her that I someday hoped to achieve. They had just been there, and suddenly they were gone, swept out from under me like the very foundation of my life, and some part of my brain refused to register it and went into immediate panic mode, which is why I no longer remember what happened after that. I am told that I passed out and that Michael and Gabriel found Dean holding and shaking me, Dean himself on the verge of tears because he apparently thought I was dead. I have been told that they had to drag Dean away and that he was yelling at them to help me.

I have been told two different accounts: Gabriel's and Dean's. Dean always insisted that he was perfectly calm and did no pathetic holding or screaming, but Gabriel was more than eager to contradict him. Regardless, I know that it was not a pleasant experience for either of them, and it certainly was not one for me. Little did I know that they were only going to get worse.

\---------------

That was really where the ritual began. Not to say that it was often, but on the occasions that panic would take me captive, Dean would fight for my release. He would never leave my side at those times, which of course made the other kids spread rumors and snicker, but Dean did not seem to care. He strangely seemed much more intent on taking care of me.

Perhaps that was because I was the only real friend he had. Well, he was friends with a boy named Benny for a while until he had to move, but that was about all. We were really about all that the other had. That was, until high school at least.

It had been a fairly normal day at school. It was my freshman year, and the students were aggressive in their taunts and fights. Whenever they hit me, it was not lightly. It had gotten significantly worse since middle school, and even towards the end of middle school I had blacked out a few times while being beaten up. I simply blanked out for what I think was a natural response to trauma and fear, so I would zone back in to find myself covered in gashes and bruises I did not remember. Sometimes I would crammed in a locker, which believe me, is one of the worst possible things for a person with anxiety because waking up in a cramped space that you do not recognize and feeling an overwhelming suffocating air suppress you is definitely terrifying to anyone. Sometimes there would be crude slurs written on my face or my arms, words that I have tried to forget for the entirety of my life. One time I even woke up at the top of the flag poles. I do not even wish to know how they got me up there, but when I came to again, I was scared out of my wits. Luckily enough for me, Dean came and helped me down and simply held me until I stopped shaking and my breathing had steadied. 

That day, however, I had only received a few jeers and shoves, so I felt blessed. I had made it through the school day without any real injuries, and I felt victorious. Of course, they simply could not have that. 

Soon enough, they were back. Kids who had never even bothered to learn my name. They much rather preferred their bigoted terms. It was not as if they even knew that I was gay at that point. I did not come out until sometime later in my Sophomore year, but they made assumptions and judgements without so much as considering my humanity. They beat me and cheered, but I never fought back. I did not see the point. Violence could never be solved with more violence, and there was no way they would ever listen to me if I tried to reason with them, so I gave in and allowed it to happen, quite similar to the way I have come to find that Dean did with John.

That day, however, was different. I could feel myself beginning to black out when suddenly, I heard an unfamiliar voice.

“Hey!” I heard a thickly accented voice call indignantly, and I strained my eyes to see a blonde boy about my age pushing his way through the crowd to stand in front of me. “Haven't you got anything better to do than give this boy hell? Get a life and move along.”

“And what if we don't?” One of the students spoke up.

“Then you'll regret it.” The blonde boy answered ever so casually. “Maybe he doesn't want to fight you for some reason that entirely eludes me.” He looked back at me with these strangely controlled eyes. “But it does not mean I won't. It would be awfully entertaining, which would be good because I am rather bored.”

The students all began to back away as if the one boy could possibly be a threat to them. They had to have had personal experience with him to fear him like that. They threw a few mumbled insults at both of us before they all left, mumbling about something or rather to each other.

“Who… Are you?” I squinted hard, my vision still being a blur and my voice still caught in the back of my throat where it is bound to have a strangled tinge to it.

“The name is Balthazar, and you're welcome.” The blonde boy answered the question, his attitude mixing well with his thick British accent. He came over to me and looked up and down in inspection. “You look awful, love.” He concluded after a moment.

I decided to ignore the term of endearment that he had just stuck on me for the time being. “Thanks. That's really helpful.” I returned the sarcasm with a grunt, finding it to be strenuous to use my voice at the time.

Balthazar chuckled, the corners of his eyes crinkling briefly. “Oh wow. You've got an attitude. That's adorable.” 

I was anything but adorable, and the comment genuinely ticked me off, so I made an effort to stand, rising onto shaky legs to prepare to take my leave. “Yes, well I think I shall be going now. Thank you for before.” I tacked on the thank you after a moment of hesitation, but I decided it best to do so because it was only polite. He had stepped in to save me after all.

“That's it then? You're not even going to give me a kiss?” He chuckled even harder at his own joke.

I felt my cheeks flare red at the comment, stopping in my tracks to glare at him. “I'm not gay.” I lied. At that point, I already knew that I was, but I was not willing to let anyone else know that or let anyone have the satisfaction of mocking me in that way when I could prevent it without violence.

“Oh, Cassie.” Balthazar shook his head lightly out of what I am now sure was sympathy. “Don't let them get to you. There's no shame in it. I am too.” He grinned because I am fairly sure that he figured everyone in the entire school already knew that. “I've been there and dealt with them before. You've just got to stand up to them. You've got the bite in you, so I honestly don't see why you haven't.”

“Violence never solved anything.” I pointed out with a bit more of an open mind. “It certainly won't help here.”

“It helped me.” Balthazar pointed out with a shrug. “But I suppose I can't really talk you out of it.”

“No, you can't.” I agreed with a bit of shock to my tone at how easily he dropped the subject.

“But it is only going to keep happening.” He pointed out, eyes locked in me as if to prove that he was serious.

“I know, but I can manage. I have so far.” I grunted, wanting to just leave because the gash in my left arm was really starting to bother me.

Balthazar's eyebrow twitched in amusement. “And I see that has turned out perfectly for you.” He sarcastically shot back.

“It has been manageable.” I gritted out, now feeling as one of my ribs shrieked as I tried to move.

“Well, it doesn't look that way right now.” He commented with a raise of an eyebrow. “We should get you patched up.”

“I can handle that myself.” That was not entirely a lie. I usually did handle my injuries myself, but sometimes Dean would be there too to help me. Oftentimes though, he would be at his house so John would not get angry, otherwise he would have injuries of his own to worry about.

“I don't doubt that, love, but it doesn't hurt to have help from an expert, now does it?” 

I sighed, deciding that arguing with Balthazar would just drain all of the energy that I had left. “Fine. What can you do?”

“Well, take a look at that rib for starters. You definitely have at least one broken one. I'll go from there.” Balthazar took another look at me and decided that he was right with a brisk nod.

“Okay.” I grunted, allowing myself to use him as a support as he led me off to what was supposedly his car to fish out medical supplies from the passenger's side compartment. 

He bandaged me up with great care, and it made me wonder quite a bit. How many times had he done just that before? Why was he helping me? Why did he care? 

I figured out the answers later, but at the moment, I was genuinely shocked by the kind side that the sarcastic stranger had, and it soon became one of the largest reasons that he was my second real friend.

\-----------------

I distinctly remember Balthazar quickly becoming a good friend of mine. He would tell me to stay by him, which would protect me from my peers. Unfortunately, they would still shoot nasty comments at us, but Balthazar would always reply with sharp, witty sarcasm or sometimes disinterest all together.

His responses would be along the lines of: “Wow. That was a good one.” Accompanied by his dramatic eye roll. “I never heard that one before. You're hilarious. You really deserve a prize. Would you like a nice sticker?”

Regardless of how he kept them away, he did, and while I did not approve of all of the environment he was fueling, I still greatly appreciated his care for me.

Of course, his care did not go unnoticed. It was a Thursday afternoon, and I was going home alone that night to study and do homework. I had shut myself in my room and began to tussle with my math homework when I heard a knock on my window.

I looked up abruptly from my work to see Dean on the relatively small window ledge looking rather impatient.

I set my books aside for the moment to open the window and make sure that my incredulousness was expressed properly. “What are you doing here, Dean?” I tried to sound both confused and annoyed to hide the excitement that was welling up inside me at the similarities that moment had to the famous balcony scene in Romeo and Juliet. I knew that was never going to happen. Dean and I were friends, and that was simply how it was.

“Just dropping by.” He sloppily half grinned in that way that never ceased to make me want to melt in my spot. “If that's okay with you.”

That second part was far more of a joke than anything else. He knew that I would never deny any time that I could get with him. Our time together was limited considering that we had to sneak around if we wanted to see each other. If we were not careful, then Dean would have to pay.

I rolled my eyes at his latter comment. “Just get in here, you idiot.” I grumbled, opening the window enough for him to climb into my room.

“No need to be so demanding.” He teased me as he climbed in effortlessly, stopping when he saw my books scattered on the floor. “Were you studying?” He asked curiously.

“I was trying to, but that can wait.” I brushed it off, knowing that I would be up late to finish that work, but it did not matter if it meant time with Dean. 

“You can go ahead. I'll be quiet.” Dean offered, and I could tell that even he did not believe that.

“Right. Because you've always managed that so well.” I shook my head lightly. “Forget it, Dean. Whenever I try to work with you here, you end up distracting me.”

“A good distraction?” Dean looked up at me with what was disguised as a meaningless flirtation, but I could almost hear the hope in it.

“You wish.” I teased, a smile playing at the corners of my mouth as it always seemed to be when I was around Dean.

“Now you're just being mean.” Dean pretended to pout.

“That's my job.” I quipped.

“Yeah…” Dean trailed off, and it was at that moment that I could tell something was bothering him. There was something that he intended to ask me, but he was holding it back for reasons unknown to me.

“Dean, what's wrong?” I gently pressed, the earlier sarcasm having dropped completely from my voice to be replaced with a soft and concerned tone.

“It's nothing.” He scoffed, his gaze dropping to the ground out of refusal to meet my gaze.

“Don't give me that. I've known you my whole life, Dean. I can read you quite clearly.” I calmly informed him.

“Of course you can.” He chuckled softly. “It's nothing really. I was just wondering about your… New friend?” He seemed hesitant to label him as a friend, but moreover, he seemed hesitant to talk about him at all.

“Balthazar?” I asked, surprised at the sudden questioning. “What about him?”

“I mean… Are you like… You know…” Dean seemed clearly uncomfortable, and at the time I took it to be offensive, but I now realize that he was really just jealous.

“I don't know what you're talking about, Dean.” I honestly answered with eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

“Like… Together?” He finally forced out.

I stared at him with wide eyes for a moment, not entirely sure how I should take that. “So you think because I have one friend other than you that means I'm dating him? Do you think that I just date any guy I see? You think because one person in this entire school dared to show me an ounce of kindness that I'd just fall in love with him?!”

“That's not what I meant, Cas. I just wanted… To know.” Dean seemed to flare up either from embarrassment or anger.

“Why? When has it ever mattered to you? You have always shoved me aside and only come when you really needed me. Balthazar did not. He helped me when I needed help. What does it matter to you who I am in a relationship with?” I spat back, anger beginning to ebb out of me.

“Because you're my… Friend!” I saw it flicker through his eyes. Dean wanted to say something else, and I tried to forget it as soon as I had seen it, but it haunted me at all hours of the night for years, refusing to let me fall into the depths of sleep. “I want to be there for you, Cas, but every time I try, I end up getting the living daylights beaten out of me! Cas, if I didn't care about you, I would have stopped sneaking out to hang out with you a long time ago.”

And then it a crashed back down on me. I was the reason that Dean was receiving beatings. If it were not for me, Dean would be better off. What right did I have to complain? “I'm sorry, Dean.” I muttered as I pulled him into a hug.

He accepted the embrace, wrapping his arms around me, and then we both pretended that we were actually in a relationship and that we could be together. We simply pretended that things were different and that we would stop hurting each other.

\-------------------   
Dean made it up to me a few days later. We normally met up for about an hour twice a week when Dean would tell his family he was at French club, so on the Friday that we were supposed to meet up, he took me out to get a brisk meal before we went back to his house and sat on his roof again, but that time was different. It was special, and I knew it was supposed to be.

“You're always going on about cats.” Dean commented around a mouthful of cheeseburger. “Why don't you have one yet?”

“You're allergic.” I stated simply, deciding against lying about the topic.

“I don't live here.” Dean objected with confusion alight in his eyes.

“But you come over more than twice a week. You have been around more than Michael.” I admitted without any shame.

“I guess.” Dean agreed with a shrug, and I saw it flash again. There was something more he wanted to say, but I wanted to say it too. “I just thought having a cat would be pretty important to you.”

“You're more important.” I answered, my head ducking down a bit in embarrassment, but I meant it so sincerely. Dean was my everything. My smile was only complete when his fulfilled it. My tears were only true when I saw him suffer. My anger came and sucked me in when he was mistreated. My anguish came when his smile faded. My laughter came whenever he told a joke that was genuine, and my heart broke whenever I saw the apparent falsehood of his smile that fooled everyone else.

Dean half smiled in acceptance of the statement, but I could tell that it unsettled him based off the glint in his eyes. I took it to mean that he was unsettled by how important he clearly was to me. He already knew how important he was to me, but he remained silent on the topic, and we instead went on with a long conversation on that roof like the best friends we once were.

\--------------------

“I don't see what the big deal is.” Balthazar scoffed. “You're a big boy. You're perfectly capable of doing this.”

“What if I don't want to?” I defended myself with my arms crossed over my chest.

“So you want to live in the closet forever?” Balthazar raised an eyebrow to accompany the heavy sarcasm sewn into his British accent. 

I rolled my eyes to express my exasperation. “Of course not, but maybe now is just not the time.” I justified my haste.

“Not even you believe that. It's time, Cassie. You've come so far. I know you can do this.” Balthazar persisted with such belief in me that I myself did not have.

I blinked a few times in surprise before I could force out my question. “How are you so sure?” 

“Because I know you.” He replied ever so matter of factly.

I took a deep breath before giving in with a firm nod. “Okay. You're right. I've got this. It's about time this was out in the open.”

Balthazar broke into a toothy grin at my response. He seemed to be almost proud of me, but there was the beginning of something else there, but I took it to be excitement. He seemed so genuinely pleased, and that made me smile in return.

\----------------

Dean and his family were taking a vacation to a beach house, and his mother had suggested bringing me and Gabriel along with them. She had insisted that we were basically family despite John's protests, which I do not doubt were of a lesser extent when he talked to her than when I actually showed up on the vacation.

John had glared me down the moment I arrive at the Winchester household to prepare for departure. Mary was so excited that she did not even notice.

Sam seemed genuinely concerned. At this point, he was already thirteen and not so oblivious to the world. He was afraid of John, and he had a right to be. I believe he was genuinely concerned for my safety.

“Cas, maybe you shouldn't come.” Sam stated with wide, concerned eyes.

“I will be fine, Sam. You do not need to worry about me. Besides, what would Dean possibly do if he were away from me for a whole week? He would not be able to keep his own head on.” I assured Sam with a half forced smirk.

Sam chuckled, seeming slightly relieved at my not particularly amusing sense of humor. He had always thought I was hilarious. He had deemed me his 'only funny brother.’ “You're sure he won't…” He trailed off as if checking to see if anyone could hear him, his eyes sweeping across the room in one gigantic swoop. “Hurt you?” He finally whispered forth.

“He wouldn't.” I lied. I did not doubt that I would end up fighting with John Winchester at some point on that vacation, but my job was to assure Sam. “I will be fine, Sam.”

Sam seemed to accept that as an answer, hugging me tightly as if he were worried that I may be wrong.

I hugged him back as assurance that I was still there, and eventually he pulled away, shakily smiled, and then darted off to get the rest of his bags into the car.

Dean, on the other hand, avoided me like I was the plague. He dodged my gaze and ignored my smiles. He essentially refused to acknowledge my presence as long as John was around.

It was not until we had actually arrived at our destination that he finally spoke to me. I was sitting on the beach, looking out into the vast expanse of water in all of its controlled chaos. I sat on the blanket of sand, a collection of warm fragments that contained their own stories. The wind came to tease my hair, whispering soft promises into my ears, but my attention on all of that was broken as Dean shuffled onto the beach. He was alone, but he had these rather large sunglasses on and he was holding himself at an odd angle, an angle that I recognized all too quickly.

“Dean…” I breathed out in shock that John would dare lay a hand on Dean while Mary was around, not mention that Gabriel or I could have seen something. My shock soon faded away and was replaced by my anger that had been fed over time. “What did he do?” I growled out, immediately shooting up from my tranquil spot in the sand to storm over and inspect my friend with whom I had fallen hopelessly in love with.

“Nothing.” Dean lied, and by the disbelieving look I gave him, I am sure that he discovered that excuse of an answer was not going to even come close to fooling me. He sighed, removing his sunglasses to reveal a raw, black eye. The flesh was swollen and dark, causing him to have a visage similar to that of a kicked puppy's. “Come on, Cas. It's not that bad.” 

“I don't care, Dean! This was supposed to be your vacation. Why would he…?” I trailed off as I realized that we both knew that I was the reason. It always was me, wasn't it?

Dean looked to the ground, unwilling to put the blame on me. “It doesn't matter.” He muttered. “Just forget it, okay?”

“I am not going to forget it. I have seen what he's done to you before, but now he's right here, so there is something I can do this time.” I decided, determination finding its way into my voice.

“Just leave it, Cas. It's not going to help. It will just make it worse.” Dean gritted out.

“How would you know? You've never fought back before.” I snapped back, but I felt regret pour out as soon as the words did.

“Yeah, I guess I wouldn't, but there's no way that you storming in there all hot-headed is going to fix anything.” Dean barked right back.

“Well I can't just sit back and watch!” I exclaimed in frustration.

“Well, it's your fault, so why don't you just shut up and let me deal with it like I always have!” Dean seemed to be on the verge of snapping completely, his voice becoming louder and angrier.

“Do not put this on me!” I knew it was my fault, but part of me was just begging for it not to be. “This is about you being afraid of who you are and not standing up for yourself!”

“No, Cas, it's always been about who you are and how he thinks that's contagious! He thinks you're a disease, and, God… Maybe you are!”

That was a hard blow, especially coming from Dean, who was the one person that I trusted never to say those things, but I held my ground. “Who am I, Dean? Who am I that you hate so much?” 

“You're a queer!” He shouted, the words that I wished never to hear from his mouth began to tumble forth. “He knows that you're a stupid faggot, and he thinks that you're some kind of disease. It's always been about the way you make me seem. It's never really been about me. It's been about you, and do you know why? I'm not gay, Cas! I'm not like you! But that doesn't matter because you and your stupid crush on me has gotten me into so much trouble. Why can't you just get over it and accept that it is never going to happen?” I could almost hear the It can't ever happen, but it was never voiced. I could see, however, his sincere regret at his last few words.

I was silent for a long moment, allowing myself time to sink in all of the words that I so desperately wished not to hear. “I was trying to help you, Dean. I have always tried to help you. I have been your friend throughout this entire ordeal, and I understand when you are not there for me. I have always understood when you had to leave, but you… You are selfish, Dean Winchester. I think… I think a part of you is punishing yourself through your father's beatings, and maybe that's why you keep me around since I'm obviously nothing more than a burden. John is no parent to you. Try and see past your self loathing to realize that.”

“What would you know? You don't even have parents.” Dean mumbled back, seeming completely lost in thought and not aware of his word choices.

“Mary is like a mother to me. Gabriel has essentially raised me. I do not need any more than that. It does not take a genius to see the injustice in John Winchester.” My voice was softer now, trying to coax Dean away from his pit of self loathing.

“Cas… I'm sorry.” Dean muttered sincerely, turning up his injured face with eyes that pleaded for forgiveness. “I didn't mean what I said. It's not about you. It's about me. I'm just…” 

Worthless. I believe that he almost said worthless, but ironically enough, I would have said perfect. “It doesn't matter. You know I will stay by you no matter what. Unless of course… You think it better if we stopped meeting?” I asked, hopeful that he would say no. I had no idea what I would do if he agreed.

“No way, Cas. You're still the only friend I have, and… Yeah, you're the best friend I could ever have. We can keep hiding our friendship from my dad.” Dean insisted, seeming somewhat aghast at the proposal.

“Okay, but… I still wish to fight with him.” I agreed, determination ever present in my eyes.

“Cas, come on. That will just make it worse. He'll take it out on both of us then, and then my mom will find out, and then…” He trailed off to shake his head to signal that I was not allowed to fight with his father.

“I could make sure he does not think it has anything to do with you.” I suggested.

“No.” Dean insisted. “You're not getting hurt over this. Look, it's better for everyone if you don't because he tends to take his anger out on the nearest thing. That could be me, you, Sam, or even my mom, so I am not about to let that happen.” He protectively grabbed my hand and led me back to the spot in the sand where I had been previously sitting. “Now sit down and talk to me about the sand and the ocean. You love this chick flick kind of stuff.” 

I knew that he was just trying to distract me, but I also felt touched. Dean was trying to protect me. He cared enough to keep me away from danger, and so I began to feel that perhaps he actually cared about me after all.

\------------------

 

Prom night was a disaster. Dean had gone with Lisa Braeden, and I had gone with Balthazar, who was all too eager to go to the prom with me. It was at that moment that I realized that Balthazar liked me as more than just a friend. He had never said anything about it, so I had never known until that moment, but after that night, I knew.

Dean and I had spent a good portion of the night together despite our separate dates, and we even began a slow dance, but he cut it off with a quick apology.

We had been dancing outside underneath the stars away from the people who were all grouped inside, and yet, fear still took hold of Dean, or perhaps he was afraid of hurting me more, but nevertheless, he broke away from our slow dance and looked at me with distraught green eyes that I had come to cherish. “I'm sorry, Cas.” He muttered, leaning in slightly, causing my breath to hitch, but then he pulled away and left me there, standing alone and confused.

Balthazar found me not too long after, sitting there and trying but failing at preventing the fall of my tears.

“Cassie…” He sounded like he knew that it would happen, but had hoped it would not as he approached me. “I'm sorry, Cassie. You really deserve so much better than him.” He bent down to look me in the eyes because I was sitting on the edge of a fountain. His gaze was so sincere as it met mine, and I knew that he wanted nothing more than to give me something better.

“It doesn't matter.” I struggled to force the words out, my voice caught in the back of my throat. “It can't be helped.”

“Cassie, you've got to move on from him. I'm sorry, but it's true. You've got to find someone who can treat you better.” Balthazar spoke in that gentle tone that he only had for me. He was nearly always snarky and witty around everyone else. He had a gentle side, but I believe that I was one of the few people ever to have seen it.

“I can't, Balthazar.” I shook my head. “I want to go home.” I mumbled finally in defeat.

“Of course. I'll take you home, and maybe if your brother's not home I can make you some tea and we can watch a movie and forget about this whole, stupid thing.” Balthazar suggested as if it were casual planning. He lifted me up and I nodded limply, allowing him to support me to his car, where he let me cry into his shoulder for a few minutes before he drove me home and took care of me.

Perhaps Balthazar did treat me better at times, but it was Dean whom I loved. It was always Dean. He understood me like no one else did, and I could read him in ways that I could read no one else. His laughter was contagious, but so were his sorrows and pains. That is why we both had such painful childhoods. We were forced to be separated, but we had a bond, an unbreakable bond that was only strained under pressure; it never broke. He never stopped being my friend, and he was kind and gentle to me at times, but his experiences twisted him and strained him, which then hurt me in turn, but I understood. Every time Dean did or said something hurtful, I understood what it was that caused him to do that, and I patiently waited until those obstacles were gone. After that, we were both given our rewards, and I know that mine was well worth the struggle.


	3. Because of You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A series of one shots about this story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Because of You or Supernatural and take no credit.

As soon as Cas and Dean picked Charlotte up to take her home for the first time, Dean knew that he would have to make changes. 

He knew that he would have to fight his inherited darkness that he feared would linger behind his efforts for his entire life. Taking a look into the mirror to see Cas fiddling with the car seat to make sure that Charlotte was safe, Dean knew that he would have to protect that little girl. He would protect her with everything he had. He could not become his father. He could not succumb to the darkness. He would fight it off - for her and for Cas.

I will not break the way you did; you fell so hard.  
I've learned the hard way to never let it get that far.

As soon as he had left the house, Dean began to realize exactly what he had just done. The realization came crashing down on him that he had hurt his beloved. He had finally snapped, and it had taken its toll.

The old terror began to rise up from within him. His hands began to tremble as he sped the Impala down the street, sending the car soaring away from the bitter domestic scene. 

His eyes were unfocused, staring blankly at the road. The shaking in his hands continued until he could no longer feel his hands, and everything became so automatic. His body was operating without his control. He was still drunk, and now he was afraid.

The darkness that had settled within him had made an attack, and Cas was left the victim. The thoughts and guilt rushed through Dean's mind, pelting him with self loathing.

I did that. I hurt Cas. The echoes of guilt lapped at his mind, coming forward and the receding like the tides. It's my fault. I'm just like him. 

As his mind became swallowed up, the real world continued on without him. However, he was still physically present, and it was for this reason that he swerved off the road, the Impala screeching as it ran straight towards a tree.

In a sudden realization, Dean stopped the car all together before any harm could come to him or the car. Part of him wished that he had just let the car run into the tree, but the fighter inside him screamed at him to live and return to Cas to apologize and make things right. 

When Cameron found him, she was less than pleased. She berated him for hurting Cas, leaving him there, and then nearly killing himself. Of course, from her personal experience with suicidal attempts and what she knew about Dean's past with them, she had been concerned and that took form in anger when she saw the car at the side of the road and no motion coming from within it.

It took a while, but even in his drunken state Dean was able to assure her that it was an accident. He knew that he had to go home and face the music. He had to go and make things right with Cas because if he did not, then he would become the man he hated.

 

It was moments like these that Dean loved the most. Him, Gabriel, and Cas were gathered around the living room floor, playing a game of Monopoly. Here, he felt like he had a family - a safe space. If Sam were there, then Dean certainly would not have minded calling that his family.

He had mixed feelings about his mother. She was kind and loved him greatly, but she was always working and ignored him half of the time. She was tired, and Dean understood that, but she had never even noticed what John had done to him. She had never bothered to think that maybe John was not as great as she thought he was. She was concerned whenever she saw bruises and cuts on his face - John, however, had learned to avoid hitting Dean in such visible places unless he was completely intoxicated, but she never put two and two together. Dean still loved her. She was still his mother, and he did not have the heart to break up her family, so he remained quiet and took the punishment he thought he deserved.

That night was different. He was with Gabriel and Cas, who both cared about him deeply. Both knew about John, and Cas was always more than willing to help him. Gabriel had a grudge against him because of how he treated Cas, but even he began to care for Dean, and he soon took him under his wing as he had done with Cas.

“Oh, come on!” Gabriel cried, waving his arms about in frustration. “How come it's always me that lands in jail?”

“I guess you're just a bad person.” Castiel teased, taking the dice to roll them into the hardwood floor.

“Aw, Cassie. That's sweet of you.” Gabriel sarcastically drawled, watching carefully to see if Cas would go to jail too.

“I live to please.” Castiel smirked as he landed instead on the last of the blue properties that he needed. “Gabriel, my card please.” He held out his hand in a sophisticated manner, palm open to receive the card.

“Yeah, yeah. I give up. You win.” Gabriel grumbled, filing through the cards until the found the one Cas had asked for and begrudgingly handed it over.

Dean chuckled, shaking his head lightly at their antics. “Looks like Cas is gonna win again.” He noted, casting a mocking glance towards Gabriel.

“Yeah, well, at least I beat you.” Gabriel announced triumphantly.

“Yeah, well you can't spend money if you're stuck in jail.” Dean informed him with a small laugh.

Castiel began to laugh as well, his eyes crinkling in genuine laughter. 

Soon enough, Gabriel joined them, and the three of them were caught up in laughter.

This went on for a little while until Dean saw the clock. His breath hitched and his laughter stopped. His eyes flew wide as he tried to fumble for words.

“Dean-o, what's the matter?” Gabriel leaned in, his face losing all signs laughter and becoming serious.

“I-I’ve got to go.” Dean stammered, standing up abruptly to leave.

“Dean, what's wrong?” Castiel rephrased Gabriel's question, standing up to meet Dean's gaze with his own blue eyes that were rounded with worry.

“I'm late. My mom's not home tonight, and I'm supposed to be back by now.” Dean rambled, taking a look into Castiel's eyes and just wishing he could stay. “I have to go.”

“Dean, please. Don't go.” Castiel fretted, knowing that if he did, he would surely receive a beating.

“You could spend the night here.” Gabriel offered. “I could call home and give you a pass for the night.”

“No, you don't get it.” Dean gritted out. “He doesn't care why I'm late. If I don't show up until tomorrow, I'm dead. End of story. The longer I wait; the worse it's gonna be.”

“Dean…” Castiel lost his words. They never really openly talked about John. They had all just known, but now that it was said, Cas felt he was at a loss for words. 

“I've gotta go.” Dean repeated, running out of the building without another word, fear propelling his every movement.

"I lose my way, and it's not too long before you point it out.   
I cannot cry because I know that's weakness in your eyes."

Dean had a long day of protecting Sam from some bullies at school, but his day was about to get a lot worse. When he came home, John was waiting for him, sitting at the table with a crumpled piece of paper in his hands.

Dean nervously scanned the room for signs of his mother, but he had no such luck. She was out. Again.

“You want to tell me what this is?” John gritted out, his voice dangerously low.

“I don't know, sir.” Dean answered honestly. After all, the paper was crumbled so that he could not see it.

“Don't play stupid with me, boy!” John snapped, pushing his chair away from the table to storm over to Dean. “You know perfectly well what this is!” He uncrumpled the paper to shove it in Dean's face.

Dean scanned over it and realized with horror that it was his report card. His eyes widened from shock, but he forced himself to remain steady. “It's my report card, sir.” He amended his earlier statement.

“Of course it's your report card!” John barked down at him. “I can read. I know damn well what a report card is, especially one as bad as this.”

“I'm sorry, sir.” Dean quickly apologized. “I only failed a few tests because of my hand. You- You broke it the other week, and I haven't been able to write with it fast enough.” That was a drastic understatement. Dean had never been spectacular at school, but he usually passed his classes. However, the other week, John had crushed Dean's hand, and Dean could hardly even move it, but in order to avoid suspicion, Dean forced himself to write with it, but each moment using it was agonizing, and he could hardly write at all, yet alone fast enough to finish a test. 

“You're blaming this on me now?!” John incredulously spat. “You ungrateful brat. Your stupidity is not my fault!”

“No, sir. It's not your fault.” Dean automatically revised his earlier statement. “It was me. I am an idiot.”

“Shut up!” John growled, raising a fist to grab Dean by the collar and punch him in the gut. “You're going to get what you deserve, and you're going to shut up while you do.”

Dean nodded, focusing all of his energy on keeping a blank face. He could not show any emotion. It would only be seen as weakness.

John threw punches and kicks towards Dean, but what really hurt were the vitriolic words that were thrown at him, but through all of it, Dean was silent.

When it was over, Dean took off without a word to find a sweatshirt to hide his new injuries. He did not bother to try and tend to any of them. He knew that he did not deserve as much. 

"I'm forced to fake a smile, a laugh everyday of my life.   
My heart can't possibly break when it wasn't even whole to start with."

Sam, Dean, and Cas were sitting on the couch in the Winchester household. Together, they were watching a movie.

Sam was curled up between Cas and Dean, cuddling into both of them. Having both of his 'brothers’ with him made him feel safe, even if he was still in the household of abuse. Luckily for them, their parents had taken a night off together and left the boys alone for the night.

Cas was content sitting with the Winchester brothers. After all, they were the closest thing he had to family next to Gabriel. 

Dean glance up at the clock and then back down at Sam. He shook his head lightly, standing up and stretching before bending back down to pick up Sam. “Come on, Sammy. We've got to get you to bed.” He nudged his little brother awake.

“Hmm.” Sam grumbled, not waking up entirely all at once.

“Come on. It's past your bedtime.” Dean gently coaxed him.

“M’kay.” Sam murmured, blinking his eyes open and slowly standing up.

Dean scooped Sam up in his arms, and with a bit of effort, carried him up the stairs.

Castiel watched them go, noting with a frown the way that Dean was limping. 

When Dean came back down, Cas would not stop staring at him, wondering how to ask his question. “Dean,” He began in a hushed tone. “What happened to your leg?”

“Oh, just a sprained ankle. I kind of stepped on it funny while playing tag with Sammy.” Dean brushed it off, trying and failing at not hobbling as he went back to his seat.

“Dean, if he hurt you again-” Castiel began in a tone drenched with worry, but Dean quickly cut him off.

“Be quiet! Sam could hear you.” Dean hissed, his eyes wide with fear.

“Sorry.” Castiel quickly murmured apologetically. “But can you please just be honest with me? I want to know so that I can help.”

“Right.” Dean snorted. “Help. How? How are you gonna do that, Cas? Cuz last time I checked, you can't do anything. All you do is make this worse for me. It didn't get really bad until he found out about you, so what the hell makes you think you can help?”

Castiel was silent, watching Dean with unmoving eyes. “Maybe I can't, but I want to be there for you. Can't I at least do that?”

“Yeah, you could. You could be there for me by being my friend and ignoring all this crap, but instead you have to bring it up because apparently you want to be my therapist.” Dean snapped, his voice building with anger.

Castiel watched him for a moment before he stood up and headed for the door. “No, Dean. I want to be your friend. Friends listen to each other, but I guess that requires trust, which must be something you can't give.” 

With that, Cas stormed out the door, leaving Dean feeling empty and alone. 

Dean wanted to take it all back. He wanted nothing more than for Cas to come back into the house so that they could just sit and talk or just watch their movie, but Cas had left, and he really was alone.

 

Dean was cooking in the kitchen, stirring a pot of homemade soup. He went about his business, humming a soft tune. He had just begun to chop up some carrots for the soup when a movement outside of the window caught his eye.

His eyes went wide as they focused on the window. For a moment, he could have sworn that he saw John standing outside, his face dark and threatening.

Dean's whole body stiffened. The knife came down with a sharp thud, cutting right into Dean's left pointer finger. He did not notice though. His attention remained on the window. 

He could almost hear John's voice in his head, calling him words he had not heard in so long. He could see John's eyes piercing through the darkness and into the light of the kitchen.

“Dean!” Castiel called out, rushing into the kitchen. He grabbed onto Dean's hand, watching in horror as fresh blood pulsed forth from it. “Dean, what happened?”

“He's out there, Cas. I swear he's out there.” Dean whispered, his gaze transfixed on the window.

“No, Dean, he's not. He's gone.” Castiel gently assured him. Fresh tears pricked at his eyes as he went over to the sink. He grabbed a fresh washcloth and ran the cold water onto it, quickly rushing back to Dean once it was sufficiently wet. 

“No,” Dean insisted, his voice piqued in terror. “I saw him. I heard him. He's out there, Cas. I know it. You've got to take Charlotte and hide. You can't-”

“Dean,” Castiel repeated, his voice louder and more desperate. “Listen to me.” He wrapped the washcloth around Dean's hand, placing both of his own gently on top. He kept his steady gaze locked on Dean's in hopes of comforting him. “He's gone. John is not coming back. You're safe. We're all safe. I promise.”

Dean took in a large breath before slowly nodding. “You're right. Yeah, you're right. I'm just crazy I guess.”

“No, Dean, you're stressed. You've been through trauma your entire life. Things like this are to be expected. You're not crazy. You're just healing.” Castiel insisted as he rummaged through the drawers to come up with a bandage that he then delicately placed on Dean's hand.

“Healing…” Dean repeated, staring down at his freshly bandaged hand. “I wish I could heal faster.”

“You'll heal in your own time.” Castiel softly assured him, placing a delicate kiss on top of Dean's hand. “And I will be with you the entire time.”

 

Mary was working yet another night shift, but John had also been working a long shift at the garage. He came home later at night, his breath reeking of alcohol. He stumbled in through the front door, grumbling as he did so.

“Dean!” He called as he slammed the front door shut, sealing off the outside world. “Dean, get down here!”

Dean came rushing down the stairs. He could feel the anger and alcohol in the air, but he came nonetheless, standing in attention when he reached his father.

“There you are, you filthy little brat. I can't stand the sight of you.” John spitefully spat, glaring venomously at his older son. “You have ruined my reputation, you know that? Everyone else does. You're just a waste of space who flunks out of school and can't even make use out of the life he's been given. What good are you, huh? All you do is drag this family down, and I am sick and tired of it. You have ruined my image for far too long!” John began to bellow, his face turning a peculiar shade of red as he shoved Dean down onto the ground. “I am a good man, and I do not deserve this! I don't deserve a failure queer for a son!”

John began to beat Dean senseless, not caring if he hit Dean's face anymore. He punched him several times before lifting Dean's head to smash it into the ground. The act was so violent that it knocked Dean out cold.

Dean's eyes went wide with the impact before they gradually began to close. The blood oozed from the back of his head to form a growing pool behind him, sticking to his hair and matting it into various clumps.

John backed away, fumbling and nearly falling over as he stood back up. “Get up.” He growled. “I said get up!” He kicked Dean's unconscious form, kicking him repeatedly to force him to get up.

John swallowed hard as he realized that Dean would not be getting up anytime soon. His son appeared almost dead beneath him. He cursed under his breath as he fumbled with Dean's body, taking it and dragging it outside by the tallest tree. 

He then proceeded to scrub all of the blood out of the carpet and off of his hands to make himself seem clean. He positioned Dean on a bunch of rocks and then ran back inside and dialed 911.

“911. What's your emergency?” The voice answered from the other end.

“Hello?” John imitated fear, his deceptive voice taking on a higher and more frantic tone. “M-my son must have fallen from a tree. He must have been trying to climb it. He fell on a bunch of rocks. I-I don't think he's breathing. Please get here quickly.”

“Calm down, sir. We will be there shortly.” The woman on the other end of the line answered, her tone unwavering. 

“Thank you.” John breathed out in false relief. He could not have cared less whether they arrived in time to save him. Dean was dead to him either way.

You never thought of anyone else.  
You just saw your pain, and now I cry in the middle of the night for the same damn thing. 

When Dean had woken up from the beating, he was in the hospital. His mother was standing over him, and John was in the corner. Sam had been holding his hand, and it was evident that he had been crying.

“Oh, Dean!” Mary gasped out in relief, rushing forward to see her son. “What were you thinking? Why would you even try and climb that tree at this time of night?”

“I-I…” Dean trailed off, his head pounding as he met John's gaze. John's glare told him all that he needed to know. “I don't know. It was stupid. A friend dared me.”

Mary folded her arms in annoyance as if she were about to scold him, but instead she ran a perplexed hand through her hair. “Fine. We'll talk about this later. You need rest right now. The hospital has let me off my shift for the night so that I can stay by you, but I need to clock out first. I'm going to take Sam to get something to drink. We'll bring you some water, okay?”

Dean wanted desperately just to beg her not to leave him alone with John, but instead he just nodded and watched as his mother turned to leave.

Sam quickly hugged Dean - a silent communication of how worried he had been - before he followed Mary out the door.

John quickly stood up as soon as they had left, drawing in towards Dean's bed and glaring down at him. “You better shut up and not say anything because if you do, I will not hesitate to let you die, and then I'll get Sam too, so you'd best shut up.” 

Dean woke up from the memory based nightmare with a shock. His eyes wide and frantic as he shot up in his bed. He heaved his chest several times in an attempt to catch up with his breathing, but none of it seemed to work. 

Cas was only half awake, but he still flung his arms around Dean, drawing him in closer and burying his face in Dean's neck. “It's a nightmare, Dean. You're safe.” He murmured right into Dean's ear, his voice groggy but gentle.

“Thanks, Cas.” Dean whispered back, biting his lip as he tried to suppress his memory as he breathed in Castiel's sweet scent. He closed his eyes and drifted back off into sleep.

 

Dean's middle school teacher called his parents. She had seen Dean's wrist when Dean had accidentally rolled up his sleeve slightly to itch at his lower arm. His teacher had immediately noticed the pronounced bruises there and called his parents. She had rambled on about how she was concerned about bullying, and Mary and been shocked and worried.

When Dean got home, he found both of his parents waiting for him. Mary rushed for and hugged him. She made him hot chocolate and begged him to just talk to her and tell her everything.

He wanted to. Dean wanted to tell her everything so badly, but he couldn't because he knew how much it would hurt her. He made up some lie about a group of kids who picked on him at school, and she had bought it. She demanded to meet with them and talk with their parents, and Dean agreed, knowing that there were plenty of kids who may not have been terrible to him, but they had certainly been awful to Cas and had justice coming for a long time.

Mary stood up to go and call the principal to arrange the meetings, rubbing at her eyes to brush away the forming tears.

That was when John leaned forward in his seat, glaring menacingly at Dean. “Don't you dare show anyone your pathetic little marks again. If you do, I will end you. You got your mom all worked up. Don't you dare do that again.”

Dean wordlessly nodded, trying to control the fear on his face as Mary re entered the room, sitting back down to give Dean's hand a reassuring squeeze.

*Because of you I try my hardest just to forget everything.  
Because of you I don't know how to let anyone else in."

“Papa said you were going to tell me.” Charlotte gently reminded Dean as she leaned forward in her chair, giving Dean's hand a gentle squeeze.

“He will.” Castiel assured her. “Give him a bit of time.”

“I-I can't.” Dean pulled his hand away. He could not do it. He could not let his little girl know the pathetic excuse for a human being that he had been his whole life. “No, I just can't. Forget it. It doesn't matter.”

Charlotte looked over to Castiel for help before turning her attention back to Dean. “Papa doesn't think so. Please just tell me, Daddy. I won't judge you. I just want to know what's been hurting you so badly.”

“She has a right to know, Dean.” Castiel calmly reminded him. “We have kept this from her long enough.”

“No, she doesn't, and neither did you!” Dean snapped, standing up to leave all at once. “Why can't you just drop it and pretend it never happened?”

“Because you can't.” Castiel calmly replied. “You and I both know that neither of us will ever forget all that happened, and because of that, she has a right to know.”

“No, it deserves to be buried.” Dean grumbled.

“You don't want to talk about because you are afraid and in pain. I understand, Dean.” Castiel softly began.

“No, you don't! Don't tell me what I'm feeling because you never knew how it felt to be treated like garbage by your own family. You never even had a real family. What would you know about that? I suffered every day at his hands, and my mom never even stopped to think about it. I was invisible to her and worse than that to him. Gabriel adores you and cares for you, so don't give me any of that 'I understand’ crap because you don't!” Dean snapped, his face turning bright red as he stormed out of the room, leaving Cas and Charlotte behind with a painful silence.

Because of you I'm ashamed of my life because it's empty.  
Because of you I am afraid.

Dean lay alone in his bed. He had insisted that Cas stay in the guest bedroom right next door, but he felt so lonely in the large bed by himself.

Castiel's pillow still smelled like him, seeming to be taunting him as he cuddled the pillow close to him.

He closed his eyes and braced himself for the thoughts to come. He knew that he was becoming just like his father. He could feel the old darkness settling into him once again, and he feared that it would make a permanent home right in his heart. He wanted to shake it free, but it seemed that no matter how hard he tried, it always clung tightly on.

He shuddered in a ragged breath, hoping and praying that he could fight the darkness and dispel it for good. He feared that it was too late and that perhaps the cycle of fear had already begun.

 

Cas could not sleep. He was only one room away from Dean, but the thought of Dean being left alone in the bed as if he had been abandoned or punished tortured his mind. He lay awake that night, staring up at the ceiling, his clear blue eyes focusing vaguely on some point on the roof, his arms splayed to his sides like a martyr. The royal blue blankets around him seemed to almost swallow him up, causing him to appear to be drowning.

Cas did not move a muscle, his body giving into the delusion that he was indeed drowning. This drowning was particularly peaceful in comparison to the mental drownings he had experienced before. Anxiety was his constant companion, always lurking in the shadow wherever he went. No matter how far he got or how much progress he made, it was always stalking him from underneath, waiting in anticipation for the moment it could drag him down.

With Dean by his side, the beast had been tamed. It never left, but it sat quietly, always watching but rarely speaking. It would creep in for a brief visit on occasion, but it could never take hold of him when he had his knight in shining armor by his side. 

Dean had fought the beast off more times than he could count, and together, they kept it at bay, but without Dean, Cas could feel his old companion sneaking back in, teasing at the recesses of his mind to lurk back forward and take hold of him.

Cas remained calm to the best of his ability, focusing on careful breathing and keeping his eyes locked on the roof. However, he was interrupted when he heard Dean's muffled screams and groans from the next door room.

Without a second thought, Cas scrambled out of bed, quickly throwing his feet over the side of the bed and standing. He rushed out of the room and into the next door room to find his husband tossing and turning on the bed, his eyes squeezed together to try and dispel some haunting image.

Castiel's eyes softened when he saw Dean, slowing his pace down to take gentle steps into the room so as not to startled him. He crept into the bed, lightly picking up the blanket and sliding underneath them. He tenderly wrapped his arms around Dean, drawing him into his chest. He began to run his fingers through Dean's hair, murmuring soft words of comfort to him.

“It's okay, Dean. He's not there. You're not him.” Castiel gently soothed, placing a brisk kiss to Dean's temple. “It's okay, Dean. It's just a nightmare.”

“Cas, no…” Dean fussed in his sleep, his tone becoming small and panicked. “I didn't mean to… Don't leave…”

“Dean, honey…” Castiel brushed his fingers through Dean's hair, leaning in slightly to whisper in Dean's ear. “I will never leave you. No matter what, I will always love you. I do not care what happens. You are not your father, and you are a good man. I will always love you for that. As long as we shall live, I will always be by your side."


	4. Mary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happened to Mary after she found out the truth? How did she ever come to terms with it?

The fight against John was a mess, but it was a glorious mess. For Dean, it was an unimaginable moment of liberation. Finally, after all of his years of endurance, he was set free.

Throughout the following few hours, he was too focused on Cas to even think about what had really just happened. It did not quite hit him until he saw his mom.

Mary had come to the hospital with them, but now there was a nurse by her side trying to coax her out of shock.

Mary did not talk. She did not even move. Her gaze was frozen upon a vague spot on the wall and refused to budge. Everything had crashed around her, and now, she had nothing real left to grab onto.

It took a good long while before Dean could even make an effort to talk to her, but when he did, it was hesitant and slow. “Hey, mom.” He tried to greet her as casually as possible, but he got no response. He licked his lower lip, trying to figure out what he could possibly say. “Uh, I guess this might be a bit of a shock for you, but I...Uh…” He was at a complete loss for words, struggling to find something that would help Mary out of her state of shock. 

Before he could say anything else, Dean found himself wrapped up in Mary's arms, feeling her body shake with sobs.

Mary held her little boy in her arms, feeling like a complete failure for letting the situation go by unchecked. She felt that she did not even deserve to hold him, but she wanted to do something. After all that Dean had gone through because of her negligence, she owed him that much.

\----------------------------------------------------

“How did I not know?” Mary echoed out, years after the fight with John. 

Dean sat in the chair across from her, sighing as the topic came back up. That happened whenever he visited his mom. She was caught in the past, weighed down by guilt.

“You were gone. You were working to support us. You couldn't help that.” Dean patiently reasoned. It was all the same old conversation they had so many times before.

“I could have. I could have actually supported you. I could have been there for you.” Mary stressed, her mind in an incessant state of guilt and stress.

“Mom, it doesn't change anything now, okay?” Dean softly pressed, gently taking Mary's hand to give it a small squeeze. “You can be here now, but you've got to snap out of this. It… It hurts to see you like this.” He admitted, his voice breaking off all at once.

“I didn't see it. I didn't help. I let it go on. I did nothing.” Mary rambled, forgetting that Dean was there altogether and staring down at the table.

“Mr. Winchester, I'm going to have to ask you to leave.” A nurse ordered from the doorway, a sedative in her hand in case any of the patients became uncontrollable.

Dean nodded, his sorrowful gaze locked pitifully on Mary. “I love you, Mom.” He whispered, his voice cracking. “I'll see you soon.” He forced a smile despite the fact that Mary was no longer paying any attention, turning to leave the room and follow the nurse out of the mental institution.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dean stumbled into the car, wanting so badly just to take the emergency flask stashed by the passenger seat as he drove away from the mental hospital. She was never supposed to be like that. The thing was, he had been afraid of this the whole time. Every time John hurt him, all he could think was, “What would Mom say?”

He was sorry that he ever got the answer. Mary had not taken the news well, and the thoughts and guilt had swallowed her whole, leaving Dean essentially orphaned.

He ran a hand across his face as he took one last sorrowful glance towards the large, gloomy gray building as if silently cursing it for holding his mother captive. He turned the key in the ignition, starting the Impala up with a gentle roar as he sped down the road - all too eager to get away from the nightmare that had become his mother’s condition.

Drumming his fingers against the wheel, Dean recalled the moment that he realized she would have to be sent away.

Her head was in her hands, her eyes wide and focused on the ground. “How did I not notice?” She asked the question in a soft, anguished voice.

“You were gone.” Dean simply answered, earning an elbow in the ribs from Cas, who stepped forwards to take Mary’s hands in his own.

“I didn’t either at first.” Cas softly assured her. “They kept it secret on purpose. You cannot blame yourself for that. What matters is that you were kind and loving to Dean through all of it. Without you, he may never have known what it was like to be loved by a parent.”

Dean swallowed as he realized not only the truth behind Cas’s words, but also that they were true for Cas too, and he could see that very clearly by the glint in his eyes. Cas had relied on Mary and Gabriel to give him the closest thing he knew to parental love, and just the thought made Dean want to go over and pull the blue eyed idiot into his arms for all of the times that he did not out of fear and to show him that it was okay because he loved him. He always had.

Mary lifted her gaze to look at Cas in the eyes. She seemed almost to be trembling as she squeezed back on Castiel’s hand. “If I had been there for him, I would have known. He would not have had to suffer.”

“Everyone suffers, Mom.” Castiel assured her, using the term of endearment completely naturally. After all, she had always treated him no different than she treated Sam or Dean. “Some more than others, but you cannot prevent a person from ever experiencing suffering.”

Mary shook her head, biting back bitter tears. “They don’t have to at the hands of their own father…” She cut herself off, her gaze lifting helplessly up to Dean. “How long?” She asked, knowing that she did not really want the answer.

“Ever since I was seven or eight.” Dean answered, his gaze dropping to the ground. He had never admitted that out loud to anyone before, and he still felt uneasy doing it then. 

“Oh God.” Mary choked, remembering every single bruise, cut, and broken bone Dean had ever had and picturing the husband that she had assumed to be loving and gentle breaking their little boy in their own home while she was away working. “Oh God.” She repeated in a louder more distressed tone as she remembered the night that an ambulance had rushed Dean to emergency room while she was on duty.

She remembered chasing after the nurses that she worked with to follow them as they carted Dean towards the nearest critical care unit. She remembered them tearing her out of the room because they did not think she was stable enough to be in there when her own son was being operated on. She remembered pacing the waiting room floor, finally understanding how all of her patients felt. She remembered Dean’s body, broken, bloodied, bruised, and lying almost as if stuck in eternal sleep, and finally, she remembered John coming into the room with Sam, acting as if he were concerned for him. Sam was crying in the corner and… “Oh God!” Mary repeated once more. “Did… Did Sam know?” She croaked out. “That time when you fell from the tree… Was that John? Did Sam know?” She began to become panicked and overwhelmed as the deception behind John’s facade began to become more and more evident.

“Mom,” Dean gently cut in, sitting down next to her and trying to meet her gaze. “Hey, you’ve got to calm down.”

“Was it him!?” Mary frantically demanded, suddenly picturing John smiling as he heard the report of the damage that had been done to Dean, and all at once, she felt nauseatdd.

“Yes! It was, okay?” Dean finally snapped. “He beat me until I passed out and then played you like he usually did, and yeah, Sam knew at that point. Hell, he told me how scared he was. Poor damn kid tried to convince me to run away with him, but I told him no because we couldn’t leave you, okay?”

“Dean.” Cas sharply bit out, but it was too late. The damage had been done, and in a moment, Mary stood up out of her chair and went to the nearest trash can, curled up around it, and began to puke uncontrollably.

She said nothing after that, rethinking every moment that they had ever spent together as a family, every moment that she had ever left them alone, and every time she had ever trusted John.

Cas was the one who recommended that they find a specialist in trauma, and he had suggested it for Dean too, but Dean declined and instead focused on helping his mother.

The specialist had told them that she would need time, and unless someone could be watching her 24/7, they had to send her away, so they did, but Dean, Cas, and Sam still visited, and they all still tried, but it seemed almost pointless.

Maybe she would be like that forever.

\-----------------------------------------------------------

“How is she?” Sam softly asked as he carefully braided Charlotte’s hair.

“The same.” Dean gruffly answered, smiling down at Charlotte when she looked curiously up at him.

“She will get better, Dean.” Castiel assured him from where he was curled up on the couch, smiling softly at the focus the furrowed Sam's brows.

“Yeah, like she's been getting better for years now.” Dean sarcastically snorted. 

Charlotte tilted her head to the side, narrowing her brows as she tried to make sense of her father's words.

“She has been, Dean.” Cas gently reminded him. “Healing is not easy. It takes time.”

“I'll believe it when I see it.”

“You're not the same that you were when we were teenagers, Dean, nor am I.” Cas pointed out.

Dean sighed, shifting into the couch and pursing his lips in thought. “Yeah, I guess you're right. I'm not a whole lot better though.”

“But you're better, and you may not see it, but you are significantly better than before. You've healed, not completely, but you are making progress. Mary will most likely take her own amount of time to heal as well.”

“Cas is right,” Sam offhandedly commented, keeping his attention focused on Charlotte's hair as he finished up the second braid. “You've come a long way. Mom needs time. You've heard the reports. She's making progress.”

“Yeah, well it looks to me like she's making the same mistakes over again.”

“What do you mean?” Sam turned his head to face him, dropping Charlotte's hair back down as he finished putting in the elastic to hold his masterpiece in place.

“She's not here. Again.” Dean gesticulated down to Charlotte, who was watching him with wide, fixated eyes. “She hasn't even met Charlotte. She's too caught up in what she missed before to even realize what she missing now.”

“I know,” Sam muttered, casting his gaze to the ground. “I kind of feel the same way. After all, it didn't feel right getting married without her even being there. She hardly even knows Cameron.”

“I am sure that she will be released soon.” Cas optimistically commented. “Her reports have been getting better. Her therapist seems to think that she is on her way to a full recovery. We can arrange a small gathering for her when she comes home, nothing too overwhelming of course, just enough so that Charlotte gets a chance to meet her.”

“I get to meet a new friend?” Charlotte looked excitedly over at Cas. 

A beat fell about the room as if the adults had simply forgotten that Charlotte was in the room as well and was actually fairly capable of understanding a fair portion of their conversation. 

“Yes,” Cas hesitantly answered. “Your grandmother Mary.”

“I have a grandma?” Charlotte's eyes widened, a smile lighting up her face as she eagerly stood up.

After all, she had never met either set of grandparents considering that Castiel’s parents died during his early childhood, John was definitively out of the picture, and Mary had been seeking mental help ever since she had discovered John's lengthy list of abusive crimes. 

They had asked Mary to testify at John's trial, but they had quickly found her unsuitable for testimony, and so began a lengthy recommendation for recovery.

Charlotte had always heard kids at school talk about their grandparents and how they were always kind to them, but she had never been able to relate to the experience. They sounded so nice - older people who were there to just tell you how much they love you and give you lots of treats.

“Yeah,” Dean's mouth twitched upwards at the corner to a slight smirk due to the excitement in Charlotte's voice. “You do.”

“Can we go see her?” The little girl began to bounce up and down, looking pleadingly from Cas to Dean.

“Not right now.” Cas sadly shook his head, his eyes containing just a hint of the regret that was flooding through him at that moment, wishing desperately that he could take Charlotte to see her and make her smile so brightly. 

“Why?” Charlotte stopped bouncing, staring dejectedly at Cas as if he had just told her that he was leaving her forever. 

“She is a little sick right now,” Cas calmly explained, leaning forward to pull Charlotte into a tight embrace. He wished that he could just squeeze away all of the sadness and rejection that the young girl was feeling, but he knew that it would always be futile. He could not protect her from everything. “But you'll be able to see her soon.”

“Oh! I'll make her a card.” Charlotte mumbled from where she had buried her face contently into Castiel's shoulder. “Then she'll feel better really soon and we can eat sweets together.”

Sam chuckled from where he was sitting. “Mom does make a good apple pie.”

“Yes,” Dean groaned as he rolled his head back, closing his eyes and picturing the dessert. “I have missed that.”

Castiel shook his head, a smile emerging on his features nevertheless as he let Charlotte go, holding her just in front of him and brushing the stray hairs that Sam had missed out of her face. “She will love you, Charlotte. Just as we do.”

Charlotte smiled brightly, giving Cas a final squeeze before darting off into the neighboring room.

“Where are you going in such a hurry?” Dean raised his brows, watching as his daughter came running back into the room with a box full of crayons and a piece of paper. “I see.” He nodded, getting down onto the floor with her to help her spell out the words she would want to write.

“I'm gonna make Grandma a card.” She shyly muttered as she began to color.

“Alright,” Dean craned his neck. “let's make one together.”

Charlotte giggled, handing him a green crayon. “Okay.”

Please let her get better soon, Cas mentally prayed. She deserves to see her granddaughter grow up. 

\---------------------------------------------------------

It wasn't too long after that that they released her. 

They had a gathering just as they had planned, and Mary was so delighted to see everyone again, and especially to meet Charlotte that she began to cry.

Charlotte only smiled at her, telling her how happy she was to have a grandma.

Mary kept going to therapy, but they quickly found that spending time with her family and focusing on the present helped her greatly to move forward.

She visited Charlotte often, and they quickly grew close. 

They would work on recipes together. Mary did most of the baking, but she let Charlotte do the small tasks, which made her feel greatly involved.

Dean, of course, greatly appreciated all of the homemade sweets, and they definitely made Gabriel much more likely to show up for Thanksgiving. 

Right now, they were together on the sofa, Charlotte asleep in Mary's lap as Mary finished reading a story.

“You two look happy,” Dean offhandedly commented as he entered the room, standing just behind the sofa with arms crossed loosely across his chest.

“We are.” Mary smiled softly down at the peacefully sleeping child on her lap. 

“Good.”

“Dean, I-”

“No,” Dean cut her off before she could even begin. “Don't apologize again. You can't change it. You're here now. Stay here. Be with her. Don't keep guilting yourself over the past. Trust me; that gets you nowhere.”

“I just…” Mary sighed, turning to face him with her whole gaze, her eyes brimming with emotion as if they could overflow in an almost natural fashion. “I don't know how I never noticed. It seems so obvious now. You were always hurting, always hiding something, and when you told me about those times you hurt yourself… Those times that you… You tried to…” Mary shook her head, her voice failing her as she struggled to remain stable. She closed her eyes, focusing solely on her breathing. “Why didn't you ever tell me?” She whispered out in defeat. “Why didn't you ever say anything? We could have had that man in jail a lot sooner.”

Dean sat down on the edge of the couch, nervously adjusting himself so that he could pull his gaze away from his mother if he had to. Seeing her in that state rattled a cage inside of him that he preferred to leave untouched, consciously picking up pace to rush past it whenever the workings of his mind happened to come across it. “I don't know,” he finally admitted, his voice low and empty, words lingering at the tip of his tongue. “I just… I guess I was afraid… Part of me at least. You were so happy. Sam was doing so good in school and all, and I didn't want to ruin anything. I felt like I was the only thing that didn't belong.” He always told me that I never belonged. “It felt like I'd be breaking apart something that wasn't even mine, you know? Like you guys were in some dream life, and I happened to be the one part of the nightmare that stayed and soured the whole thing. I didn't think there was an issue other than me…”

Mary reached out and took his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “You always belonged, Dean. It turns out, John never did. He was the thing rotting the family, and I was too by allowing it to happen. You… You were brave and so strong to make it through it all.”

Dean nodded wordlessly, casting his gaze downwards. “I guess… I guess part of me started to hate myself for it. I was always the one bringing shame to the family, always the one ruining things. I don't know… At some point, I just stopped feeling things, stopped caring. I could only have myself; that was it, and then it became so easy to take the beatings because they just felt right. Like I was getting what I deserved.”

“That was when you started self harming,” Mary realized out loud. “Dean, I- I don't know what to say. You… You were never any of those things. I was always so proud of you.” A faint smile appeared on her face, masked and nostalgic. “You always took such good care of Sam. You were a bright kid with a good sense of humor, and you cared so much about Cas and helped him through all his difficulties. I was so proud. It's hard for me to see you the way you saw yourself… To me, you were a perfect son. I never could have imagined…”

“Thanks, Mom.” Dean sent a shaky smile her way, giving her hand a quick squeeze. “It… It's good to have you back.”

It felt like a weight off his chest in just saying it. He had missed her. Even though she had been absent much of his childhood, she was still the only parental figure that he had in his life. 

“I'm glad to be back.” Mary smiled back as she ran her fingers through Charlotte's hair. “I wouldn't want to miss out on anything else.”

“Yeah, well I don't think you'll miss much. Charlotte loves having you around.” Dean chuckled as he stood up, trying to shake off the whole conversation.

“I love being here.” 

With a smile, he turned and left the room.

“Goodnight, Mom.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think because there are more parts to this!


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